Fate: Desiderantes Affectibus
by Rowan Seven
Summary: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.
1. Prologue – It Began With a Wish

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Prologue – It Began With a Wish.

Matou Sakura was a lifeless shell of a girl. The violet-eyed four year old had suffered through days of her adoptive grandfather's crest worms burrowing into her body, and she now lay supine on the cold stone floor of the Matou mansion's basement, unresisting as the viscid insect familiars feasted on her flesh. She had screamed when her torture first began, but that only gave her tormentors another orifice to enter and violate, and struggling seemed to encourage the disgusting creatures. She had finally given up and stopped fighting back simply to lessen the pain.

The pain _hadn't_ lessened, though, so she'd retreated into an unfeeling numbness instead. Mustering the energy to care again would only cause her to relive the overwhelming horror she should feel at what was being done to her, and for reasons even Sakura herself didn't understand her mind refused to take the alternative path of madness. It was therefore better for her to resign herself to this fate and accept that her life had become an unending horror worse than a nightmare, or so she told herself. After all, nightmares weren't real and could easily be escaped by waking up. Nightmares didn't continue past the point where you could no longer scream, you'd run out of tears, and hundreds of tiny monsters continued to violate your body.

Memories, though...those were very real and far more painful than any nightmare for the young girl now. Memories of a loving mother who'd always had time for her and whose warm smile could make anything better. Memories of a kind father who'd tell her bedtime stories and entertain her with magic tricks until she fell asleep. Memories of an older sister with whom she shared everything and who always protected her. Memories of a home and family when everything had been right instead of horribly, frighteningly _wrong_.

Remembering was one of the few activities that could penetrate the deep apathy Sakura desperately clung to. The past terrified Sakura because it reminded her of everything she'd lost and how she'd been _given away_ by the same loving family she had so many happy memories of. They'd delivered her into this hell with barely more than a cursory farewell and dashed all possibility that they might come to rescue her someday. To them, to her birth family, she was no longer a Tohsaka. She was a Matou, and because of that there could be no escape for her.

It hurt. Thinking about it hurt so much, and yet...as much as she knew it was impossible and that it would only make her suffering worse, Sakura still hoped. She still yearned for those happy yesterdays. And so, deep within her heart, almost despite herself, and without any expectation that it would come true, Sakura silently made a wish.

* * *

Walpurgisnacht, the stage-constructing witch whose nature is helplessness, cackled in demented glee as she spun beneath her mammoth geared wheel and watched Mitakihara fall into ruin. Her destructive magic streamed chaotically throughout the city, sundering buildings, streets, and the earth itself with the force of a natural disaster and lifting the debris high into the sky in profane defiance of gravity.

It was terrifying. It was awe-inspiring. It was horrific.

But most disturbing of all, it was an act of _kindness_. The devastation was Walpurgisnacht's stage and the terror and tragedy her performance, and by creating this monstrous misfortune and encompassing it into a script she transformed all the sorrows in the world into nothing more than a play. Such was the warped compassion of Walpurgisnacht, whose alabaster and blue form filled the sky and more closely resembled a stick puppet than the young, innocent girl she had been long ago before she'd fallen into despair and madness. Before her hopes had become curses. Before she'd offered her soul for a single, heartfelt wish.

The Incubator named Kyubey knew all this and did not care. Instead, the alien creature who wore the guise of a white, cat-like animal calmly focused its attention on the young girl standing before it on the badly damaged rooftop they shared. She had the potential to become the greatest of magical girls and then the wickedest of witches, just like Walpurgisnacht before her, and all the Incubator needed to unlock the girl's magic was for her to similarly offer her soul for a wish.

Earth would be destroyed. The girl's mind-staggering potential and the inevitable fate of all puella magi could yield no other result. Wishes always betrayed the wisher's heart eventually, and when that happened mankind would meet its end at the grief-tainted hands of one of its own daughters. Over seven billion lives would vanish from the universe.

Kyubey knew all this and more and did not care. The Incubators had sacrificed human lives since the dawn of mankind to power the cycle of hope and despair that postponed the heat death of the universe, and in the alien scale of time the Incubators operated those many lives and the seven billion more that would soon join them would someday be offset. This single child could prolong the lifespan of the entire cosmos by more than the rest of mankind throughout present and future ages combined, so it was for the greater good that this species perish so other races and life-forms could flourish in the time purchased by their sacrifice. To do otherwise and pass the girl's potential by when so many could be saved...that would be immoral, and the only uncertainty in the Incubator's mind was the answer to the question upon which the entire world's fate rested on.

"Now, Kaname Madoka...What is the wish that you will pay for with your soul?"

The pink-haired girl turned partway to fully face the white Incubator with a resolve on her face beyond her years. Taking a deep breath, she clutched a hand to her heart and spoke her wish.

* * *

 **Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.**

Matou Kariya's entire body thrummed in pain as he spoke the words of power. The crest worms implanted within his flesh stirred hungrily as the magic flowed through him, and the prematurely white-haired man felt the disgusting sensation of them ravenously crawling under his skin as he continued chanting. Only hateful experience and the importance of his current task kept the bile from rising in his throat. He was a host to these parasites now and had endured their depravations for a full year to be ready for this moment.

 **If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning.**

The summoning circle he'd meticulously traced in blood on the basement floor glowed with arcane power as a mystic wind blew and strengthened, a prelude to the coming storm of the Fourth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. The fact that Kariya found himself willingly fighting in this conflict as one of the seven masters after running away from his family and abandoning the path of the magus years ago almost made him chuckle bitterly, but thoughts of laughter always perished immediately when he thought about Sakura—his sole reason for fighting in this war—and what she was going through. He would save her. She _needed_ him to save her.

 **I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, and I shall defeat all evil in the world.**

He could sense his "father"—actually his distant ancestor, although the knowledge that he shared any blood at all with the twisted old man disgusted him—watching him perform the summoning ceremony from the side of the room with a sadistic, self-satisfied grin on his face. Matou Zouken was an abominable existence that had shed its humanity long ago to live on through a body comprised of the flesh-eating blood worms that formed the Matou clan's magic crest. He was a leech that survived by devouring others and using his position as head of the family to bleed the life out of the Matous in his obsessive pursuit of the Holy Grail.

 **And let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos.**

Kariya hated Zouken. He hated him for the torturous legacy all his descendants suffered through. He hated him for the horrors he inflicted upon Sakura to make her the next Matou heir. He hated him for the makeshift, excruciating magus training Zouken had put him through that had left him a near cripple and would destroy his body in a little over a month. And he hated _himself_ for needing Zouken to actually be strong enough to make a difference and protect those he loved.

 **Thou, who art trapped in a cage of madness, and I the summoner who holds thy chains.**

But even more than Zouken, even more than himself, he _hated_ Tohsaka Tokiomi. The man had everything he wanted, everything he'd given away to protect Aoi and her children from the Matou legacy, and that _despicable fool_ had still handed Sakura over to Zouken. Kariya seethed with rage every time he thought of it. Didn't Tohsaka understand the agony he was putting Aoi through? Didn't he know the hell Sakura would experience as the Matou heir? Did he truly value magic over family, _over his own flesh and blood?!_

 **Seventh Heaven, fly into great words of power.**

There was no catalyst. Zouken hadn't offered one, perhaps preferring not to "waste" one of his hard-earned relics on someone whose chances of winning he deemed laughably poor. Or perhaps Zouken was perversely curious which heroic spirit his descendant would summon on his own. Kariya didn't know, and he didn't care. No matter which champion he summoned, no matter how little life he had left in this failing body of his, no matter how great the odds against him were, Kariya would move heaven and earth to win. A child was counting on him, a girl who could have been his daughter in another world and who was his daughter in every way that truly mattered except blood, and if he could see her smile one more time before he died then all of this would be worth it.

 **Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of Scales!**

Blinding white light erupted from the summoning circle and swept across the room. Kariya forced himself to remain standing as the buffeting magic washed over him, and in this all-important moment where the ritual reached its climax he opened his heart to the Holy Grail and voiced his wish hoping a hero would answer.

* * *

"I wish to save Sakura!"

The Holy Grail heard Matou Kariya's plea and reached out across time and space to the Throne of Heroes to select a champion.

"I wish to erase all witches before they are born. All witches in all the universes, both past and future. With my own hands!"

In another world, the power behind a young girl's selfless wish rewrote reality and transformed her into an embodiment of hope itself. Her newly expanded consciousness reached out across time and space to save her sister puella magi from the tragedy of their fates.

Two wishes. Two worlds. Two different universes that could never meet. And yet, like two travelers journeying down different sides of a broad river who look across at the opposite shore, for a single transcendental moment the Holy Grail and the newborn Goddess each saw the other across the gap between multiverses.

And in that moment, the Goddess _understood_. She knew that the Holy Grail was corrupted. She knew what the Matou master sought. She knew what would happen to him if left to his own devices. And she knew what needed to be done.

"I wish for a family again!"

A third wish, spoken months earlier but intrinsically tied to the first and made by one who would in the future become—in a loose sense—a witch herself, became the link to the second that bridged worlds. The Goddess, having made her decision, reached out across this link to the Holy Grail to give the best and the only gift she could to the desperate man and the broken girl he sought to save.

 _Hope_.

* * *

The blinding light faded into a trailing blue mist that slowly seeped onto the basement floor to form a second circle around the still glowing crimson glyph. Zouken's eyes narrowed at the deviation from the traditional summoning ceremony while Kariya clutched himself in pain as the spell took its toll, both men wondering what would happen next. They didn't wonder long.

Heedless of its watchers and displaying a distinctive elegance, the nebulous outer circle took on the more definite shape of a round, five-line musical staff. Pulsating runic notes appeared and disappeared within the lines as an unseen violin performed the ghostly score. Crystal clear water that had no discernible source slowly trickled inward from the outer perimeter of the anomalous circle until meeting in the center to form a thin, liquid sheen.

Kariya watched what happened next with a combination of shock, awe, and disbelief. The head of a young, blue-eyed girl emerged from the watery disc. Her short-length, wavy hair matched her eyes and was decorated with a golden fortissimo pin. The white mantle of a cape followed as she continued to rise. Soon she was visible up to just below her waist, revealing a slender body clothed in a blue and white shoulderless top, long gloves that reached to her elbows, a diagonal-cut skirt, and a c-shaped gem over her bellybutton. The outfit loosely resembled armor, and thigh-length white stockings and blue boots completed the ensemble as the girl fully appeared and stood above the liquid portal.

"Servant Berserker," the puella magi named Miki Sayaka proudly announced, her azure eyes darting between the ailing Kariya and a calculating Zouken before firmly settling on the former.

"I ask of you, are you my master?"

* * *

Author's Notes: Hello, and thank you for taking a look at my new fanfiction project. As stated above, this is a Fate/Zero and Puella Magi Madoka Magica crossover that replaces Lancelot as Berserker with Sayaka and then explores the ensuing plot butterflies. The story is set chronologically before Rebellion so, while there may be allusions to the post-series movie, its contents will not be directly featured. Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus is, as of the day I'm writing this addendum, still a work in progress, but I've used the constructive feedback I received on earlier versions of chapters shared online at the SpaceBattles and Sufficient Velocity forums to make revisions and, after mulling it over, decided it was time to post the updated chapters in a single accessible place. I hope that you, the reader, will enjoy reading them.

With that said, there are several acknowledgements I should make. First, credit goes to the creative minds at Type-Moon and Studio Shaft, along with Gen Urobuchi and everyone else involved in producing Fate/Zero and Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Needless to say, I wouldn't be writing this crossover without such compelling and thought-provoking source material to work with. Netflix has also been an incredible boon since both series (dubbed and subbed) are available via instant streaming on their website.

Second, fellow fanfiction writers "The Infamous Man" and Dminion heavily inspired this story with their own Fate/Zero crossovers: Fate/Zero Sense and Just an Unorthodox Thief in the former's case, and The Goddess of Hope in the latter's. Both have my thanks for sharing their works online where I could find and be influenced by them.

Third, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the members of the SpaceBattles and Sufficient Velocity forum communities who have offered encouragement, suggestions, and corrections as I worked on this story. It's difficult to convey just how much their feedback has meant to me over the months, but that this story has come as far as it has is in considerable part thanks to them and their feedback. A special kudos goes to EVA-Saiyajin and Kinematics for catching some of my more embarrassing errors and giving me the opportunities to fix them.

Moving on, I'll be uploading chapters one through nine of this story in the coming weeks here as I make final edits and adjust the formatting. Anything after chapter nine will be posted over at SpaceBattles and Sufficient Velocity first and then, once I believe it is ready, uploaded here. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to review. Also, for those who may be interested, Sayaka's stats as Berserker are shared below. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Servant Stats**

 **Class:** Berserker

 **Alternate Classes** : Saber, Caster

 **True Name:** Miki Sayaka

 **Alignment:** Lawful Good

 **Parameters**

Strength: C.

Sayaka gains increased strength as a puella magi, but she is not a heavy lifter.

Endurance: B.

Sayaka's healing factor makes her incredibly resilient, but her true strength lies in being able to quickly recover from damage rather than being able to withstand damage.

Agility: A.

Sayaka is a magical girl and possesses the agility they are famed for.

Mana: C.

As a puella magi Sayaka has above average magical power.

Luck: D.

Sayaka met a tragic end in multiple timelines, but she was lucky enough to have a precious friend whose intervention finally allowed her to die a hero's death and pass on at peace with herself.

 **Class Skills**

Mad Enhancement - N/A. Modified and consolidated into Rhapsody.

Rhapsody - Self-inflicts Mad Enhancement, Ranks E through A. The servant also gains Pain Suppression (False), an innate talent to become insensate to physical injuries. Higher ranks of Mad Enhancement increase the rate of Soul Gem corruption, with nigh total corruption and the activation of Symposium Magarum nearly instantaneous at Rank A.

Runic Script: N/A

A class skill unique to puella magi. When the servant's status is viewed through a master's clairvoyance, all information is rendered in the runic script of the Incubators. Clairvoyance functions as normal otherwise, but unless the master decodes the language the information shown in the clairvoyant visions will be useless to him.

 **Personal Skills**

Ally of Justice: C

Strength, Agility, and weapons gain the "+" bonus attribute when the servant believes she is fighting for a just and heroic cause. The same stats gain the "-" bonus attribute if the servant is morally opposed to the cause she is fighting for.

Decretum: A

The servant can rapidly heal and recover from any physical wound to her material body, fatal or otherwise. Regeneration of limbs and healing the physical injuries of others are possible with this skill, but both require an increased prana expenditure from the master.

Allegro: B

Summons spell circles with musical motifs that the servant can use to temporarily enhance her physical and magical abilities. Required for her Spark Edge and Typhoon attacks. The spell circles can also be used as platforms by the servant.

 **Noble Phantasms**

 **Soul Gem – Symbol of the Maiden's Contract**.

Type: Anti-Unit (Self), Rank: A

The crystallization of the servant's soul and proof of the servant's contract as a puella magi. The servant cannot die as long as her soul gem remains intact, and the soul gem is even capable of completely regenerating the servant's material body should it be destroyed. Conversely, the servant will die immediately if the soul gem is destroyed regardless of any injuries to her material body, and the servant's material body cannot be operated unless it is within 100 meters of the soul gem. Use of magic, loss of sanity, and negative emotions taint the soul gem, and the master must supply prana through his contract with the servant to cleanse and replenish the soul gem. The servant increasingly suffers from irrationality and negative emotions as the soul gem becomes more tainted, creating a dangerous feedback loop. Should the soul gem become thoroughly corrupted and blacken, the soul gem will shatter and the servant will disappear.

The soul gem bestows the following bonus personal skills to the servant:

Battle Continuation (A) - Makes possible to fight even with deadly injuries and can remain alive so long as the soul gem remains intact.

Instinct (A) - Refined sixth sense is now close to true precognition. The servant can "feel" the most favorable developments for herself during battle, and penalties caused by obstructed vision and hearing are reduced by half.

Magic Detection (C) - The servant can use her soul gem to locate spiritual entities, sources of magic, and active spellcraft within a range of 1 kilometer. Ineffective against targets with a high rank of Presence Concealment or comparable stealth abilities.

 **Cutlass Concert – A Sonata of Swords**.

Type: Anti-Unit, Rank: C

The servant can manifest multiple copies of the cutlass associated with her legend. These cutlasses count as Rank D Noble Phantasms when summoned instantly, but spending additional time and prana can raise their rank. The servant is able to wield these cutlasses as if she possesses the personal skill Eternal Arms Mastership, Rank B, thereby retaining considerable fighting skills even when under the influence of mental hindrances.

 **Symposium Magarum – Symphony of the Witch**.

Type: Barrier/Anti-Unit, Rank: A+

Miki Sayaka summons the labyrinth of Oktavia von Seckendorff, the witch birthed from her corrupted soul. The witch's labyrinth is a parasitic reality marble that feeds upon the life force of any living creature trapped within the distortion to sustain itself against Gaia's assault. The labyrinth takes the shape of a maze-like concert hall and contains scores of familiars who will fight to the death to protect their future master. Symposium Magarum requires the soul gem's near total corruption to be activated, and it can only be sustained for 30 minutes before the Law of Cycles shatters the soul gem to prevent Oktavia von Seckendorff from hatching. It is impossible for Miki Sayaka to deactivate Symposium Magarum unless she is ordered to do so with a Command Seal. Symposium Magarum can also be dispelled by finding Miki Sayaka within the labyrinth and killing her or by a rival noble phantasm powerful enough to disrupt it.


	2. Ch1 – Mana and Od? I Prefer MP!

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter One – Mana and Od? I Prefer Magic and MP!

Standing on the concert hall's stage with his cherished violin, Kamijou Kyousuke drew the bow against the instrument's strings and performed a solo rendition of Schubert's "Ave Maria." The graceful music resonated throughout the large auditorium, empty for this audition except for the several judges in front and the ghosts of two girls sitting unseen in the back. The pair of apparitions watched and listened to the performance in companionable but meaningful silence as the shorter of the two gave her friend time to collect her thoughts. Finally, the taller one spoke.

"Looks like...I ended up causing you a lot of trouble."

Madoka demurred without turning, keeping her and thereby Sayaka's attention on the stage and the young man performing on it.

"No. I'm the one who should apologize. In order to save you, I had to leave things as if nothing has happened. And as a result, this future would have to disappear as well."

The pink-haired remnant of a girl who now never was and yet whom the new universe could not exist without paused for a moment, letting the beautiful music serenade them both.

"But, I thought it probably wasn't exactly what you wanted..." she eventually continued, an undertone of sadness—of apology—in her voice even as she spoke words of comfort. "I think your wish and all the hard work you did for it were truly precious. It absolutely wasn't meaningless. So..."

The girl beside her listened to the music her wish and sacrifices had made possible, sighed, and nodded her head.

"Yeah, this is fine," Sayaka concluded with a weak but genuine smile. "Really. All I really wanted was to hear him play one more time...I wanted more and more people to be able to hear him play. Just remembering that again is enough for me. Now I really don't have any regrets."

That wasn't completely true, Sayaka knew. She had wished for Kyousuke's arm to heal so he could play music again, but in timeline after timeline she had forgotten her original intention and let jealousy, self-loathing, and despair consume her. She had done things she wasn't proud of and hurt those closest to her, sometimes even taking them down with her, and she would never have the chance to apologize to most of them now. Still, to hear this music again...to clearly remember the wish that had been in her heart and know she had made it come true...she was satisfied with this outcome, for the most part.

"Well, I guess there is one thing that bothers me...But it's Hitomi, after all. Kyousuke doesn't deserve such a great girl. I'm sure they'll be very happy...won't they?"

Ghostly tears fell from Sayaka's eyes even as her smile grew. Hitomi and Kyousuke were, after Madoka, her closest friends. She had loved Hitomi like a sister and had wanted to be loved by Kyousuke as a woman, and knowing that the two of them were together still hurt. The bitterness, though, was gone, and she truly wished them well.

 _Please...please be happy in the future I died to make possible for you._

"Yeah," Madoka answered simply, watching her friend understandingly. The two of them sat like that for a long moment; there was no need for further words between the two childhood friends as Madoka gave Sayaka the time she needed to reflect on her life and hear the music that life had purchased.

"Should we get going?" Madoka asked when she knew Sayaka was finally ready.

"Yeah..."

The two ghosts rose to their ephemeral feet and faded away. This was the end of Miki Sayaka's life on the Earth she knew and her last chance to say good-bye, but it was not the end of her journey. The Holy Grail beckoned, a war between legends in a universe far removed from this one. Madoka had warned her of the dangers, cautioned her that there was no guarantee of success and that victory—if achieved—would likely come at a steep cost, but Sayaka was fine with that. Madoka had given her this chance to come to peaceful terms with her death and realize that, despite how short, ugly, and tragic her life had been, she had helped create something beautiful. The memory of Kyousuke's music would sustain her in the trials ahead, she was sure, and after all her failures she didn't want to let anyone else down. There was still somebody who needed her, and although Sayaka had lost her way on the path of heroism once before she was still an ally of justice. She would do this.

 _Time to play the hero again and get it right this time. Holy Grail War, here I come!_

She let Madoka guide her. At first the journey felt like she was sinking in a black, bottomless ocean. The further she sank the more frigid the water became until it went beyond cold and scorched her soul, but her friend was with her and comforted her with a gentle touch and soothing words. Then, after an indiscernible length of time, she felt another force—unnatural, powerful, and with an inscrutable will behind it—reach out and _pull_ her, drawing her across the dimensional sea towards her intended destination. Madoka followed as far as she could, concentrating and weaving spells as Sayaka's broken soul gem reforged itself and her puella magi attire reformed around her. And then she was at the other end of the immeasurable gulf, down become up, and she emerged into a dark basement with only two other occupants. She examined them both for a moment, and then she asked the question that, seemingly of its own accord, appeared in her mind.

"Servant Berserker. I ask of you, are you my master?"

* * *

Matou Zouken was alone in the crypt-like basement of his home. He'd secluded himself there after escorting his disappointment of a descendant and the self-professed Berserker to the front door and had spent the past thirty minutes examining the site of the summoning ceremony in minute detail.

"Interesting," the ancient magus proclaimed succinctly, his wizened but still penetratingly sharp eyes darting across the floor one more time to reconfirm his findings. Both arcane circles had faded with the successful summoning of the servant. That was normal, but what was not was the complete absence of residual magic in the room. The basement should have been saturated with raw power following the summoning ceremony, but—excluding himself and his insect familiars—the chamber was completely barren instead, as if something had sucked all traces of magic from the environment.

When combined with the other anomalies in Kariya's summoning, Zouken's observations led him to a single conclusion: the summoning ritual had been hijacked. Something had intercepted the spell before it reached the Throne of Heroes, traced it back to its origin, and then channeled all the available magic into a second summoning spell to format what was definitely not a heroic spirit into the class system. Zouken was most certain of this last point; he had designed the Holy Grail's master-servant system, and he could recognize a heroic spirit when he saw one. This war's Berserker was something else altogether.

 _And to think I almost sat this war out_ , Zouken mused with a crooked grin on his shriveled features as he rose from the floor, his examination complete. _Kariya's idiocy might have actually done me a favor here._

That thought almost made Zouken laugh. He hadn't expected anything more from the self-righteous fool than an amusing show during the Fourth War and the satisfaction of watching him fall apart under the strain, but Kariya had defied his low expectations and shown him something new within a single hour. True, it appeared the idiot was being used by a greater power, and the questions of who, what, and to what end remained unanswered, but Zouken was a patient man. If an unknown entity was interfering in this Grail War, then it behooved him as one of the Grail's founders to identify the source. And if the interloper's involvement could be turned to his advantage...why, so much the better.

 _Good luck, Kariya. I'll be watching you and your servant_ _ **very**_ _closely. For once in your otherwise worthless life, it seems you might fail me a little less than usual._

With a thought, Zouken's human body crumpled and dispersed into thousands of tiny, wriggling worms that swarmed across the floor and disappeared into the dark shadows of the room. This was his true form, a plague of flesh-eating insects united by his twisted mind and corrupted soul, and among the many abilities this existence gave him—superhuman regeneration, extreme longevity, and an awareness spread amongst countless vessels—the power to see through multiple eyes would be especially useful in the days ahead. He had preparations to make and people to observe, and staying on top if it all was so much _easier_ when you could be in more than one place at once.

* * *

Matou Kariya silently cursed as he limped down a paved walkway through Fuyuki's Riverside Park, a minor oasis of manicured green grass, pruned hedges, and leafy trees in the city's center near the massive steel bridge that spanned the Mion River and connected the city's western half, Miyami, with its eastern half, Shinto. He had plenty of reasons to curse: his nearly paralyzed left arm and barely functional left eye which acted as constant reminders that he was in a race against time with his failing body; his reliance on his family's disgusting magecraft and how even after committing a full year of his life to it he would be lucky to measure up to the weakest of the war's masters; his dependence on Zouken's twisted _generosity_ for sanctuary and resources after abandoning his previous life for this chance to save Sakura; and, always high on his list, the knowledge that none of this would have been necessary were it not for the damnable actions of that damned fool Tohsaka Tokiomi.

At the moment, though, Kariya had a new and completely unexpected cause for maledictions—his servant, or rather his servant's appearance and the fact that if he was ever seen in public with her he'd likely be mistaken for a pedophile and arrested for child abduction. He'd thought he'd been prepared for all the risks competing in the Holy Grail War entailed, but that one had never crossed his mind and he did not want to become the first master in the war's history to finish the conflict locked in a jail cell.

 _Gods, why me?_ , Kariya wondered irritably. _A child hero wouldn't be terrible if that was the only problem; someone like Kintaro or Momotaro could probably do quite well in this war without standing out like a sore thumb. But an_ _ **actual**_ _magical girl? I'll never live this down if she has a naked transformation sequence!_

He suddenly broke out in a coughing fit and reflexively raised his right hand to cover his mouth. His gray eyes narrowed unhappily as he felt wet specks of what could only be blood splash against it, and he saw spots of red in the corners of his vision as his head pounded in agony. Pain was a constant in his life now and had been for months; the innumerable stings as the crest worms gnawed on his flesh, the feel of fire flowing through his nerves as his long disused magic circuits reactivated and produced a steady stream of arcane power, the excruciating protests from his deteriorating body as he forced it to go on through sheer determination, and so much more all assaulting his mind so severely that it was hard for him to think clearly even on his better days.

 _Gotta keep going for Sakura's sake, though. That's all that matters._

Kariya began to look around for a place where he could rest and spied a wooden park bench a moment later. He hurried over to it as quickly as his abused body could manage and sat down.

"Berserker, appear," he ordered wearily once he was certain no else was near and after he'd wiped his hands on his pants. Distasteful as it was to admit, Kariya knew he looked like a diseased drifter, the type of person mothers would warn their children to stay away from if seen on the street, and he didn't think a few more stains on his clothing would make much of a difference.

His servant materialized a few seconds later, and the sight of Berserker reminded Kariya of another reason she unsettled him. She had the appearance of a young girl, several years older than Rin and Sakura but still a child compared to him, and he couldn't help thinking about Aoi's two daughters when he saw her. What would they think—what would Aoi think?—if they knew he was using what was essentially a child soldier in a dangerous and potentially fatal war? That was a moral boundary he never thought he'd cross, but now—just as Zouken was using Sakura for his own sickening ends—he would use this young girl to fight his battles for him.

 _I have no choice_ , he justified to himself, knowing that countless people before him had used the exact same rationalization for unspeakable crimes and hating himself for doing the same. _I can't turn back with Sakura counting on me. I made a promise, and the only way for me to keep it is to use the hand I've been dealt. Gods, forgive me._

"Are you all right, Matou?" Berserker asked, a concerned expression on her face as she watched him. "I'm not eager to return to that mansion—No offense, but your old man gives me the creeps!—but if you need to rest that's probably the safest place."

"No!" Kariya shouted with—if Berserker's surprised look was any indication—more force than he'd intended. Raising his right hand in mollification, he elaborated.

"We shouldn't rely on Zouken any more than necessary. Nothing good ever comes from him; trust me on this. I'd rather sleep in a gutter than go back there unless it's an emergency."

Berserker frowned briefly, wondering at his reasons, but then nodded her head in acquiescence and showed her master a confident grin.

"Far be it for me to doubt when somebody tells me I shouldn't trust an old man who's more obviously evil than a Kamen Rider villain. I'll take your word on this, Matou, and rest assured that if you ever wind up in a gutter I'll protect you while you sleep. I wouldn't be much of an ally of justice if I couldn't do that much."

Kariya nodded gratefully and chuckled softly at the unflattering comparison of his father. It didn't occur to him to wonder how a heroic spirit would know about a tokusatsu franchise; he was too amused by the mental image of Zouken being obliterated by a Rider Kick. Still, he had ordered Berserker to appear for a reason, and with a slight shake of his head to clear it he focused on his servant and observed her with his master's clairvoyance. It was time to find out...what his servant...could...do...

 _What the hell?_

Kariya blinked. He then blinked again, and when that failed to change what he was seeing he swiftly turned off his clairvoyant vision. That was...that had been...he could only describe it as madness, a series of skittering alien runes that seemed to have no rhyme or reason yet teased the mind with tantalizingly hidden meanings overlaid on a gestalt of psychedelic colors and bizarre images.

"Problems, Matou?" Berserker asked, accurately judging the expression on her master's face.

Kariya opened his mouth to answer, paused for a moment as he wondered whether he should reveal to his servant that he couldn't read her parameters, and then decided to be honest. He didn't like lying to children, and if he was going to win with Berserker he needed to know what she could do, one way or another.

"Yes," he spoke, watching her intently. "All I see are nonsensical runes whenever I try to read your abilities. You're going to have to tell me what your skills and noble phantasms are so we can prepare for the upcoming battles."

Berserker's response began as a flash of puzzlement on her face, shifted to an expression of sudden understanding, and ended in a sheepish countenance.

"Eh, sorry about that," she said, laughing nervously as she reached for the back of her head with her right hand. "I didn't think that would affect my own master, but considering the source I should have known better. I don't know how your 'master's clairvoyance' works beyond what details the Grail gave me, but what you saw should be the same result for everyone. Unless somebody is crazy enough to decode the runes, their clairvoyance won't give them any useful information about me at all."

"As for what else I can do..." she began slowly, lowering her right hand to her waist and placing it over the c-shaped blue gem affixed to her belly button. When she removed it the gem was gone, and resting in her hand in its place was a glowing orb that, in Kariya's mind, loosely resembled a luminous Faberge egg.

 _This is a soul gem, and it is the source of my power_ , Berserker explained, switching to telepathy. _As long as it remains intact and you supply me with magic, I can continue fighting no matter what my injuries are. I can also use it to detect magic within a range of one kilometer. However, if it breaks...well, that's it for me, and I can't move my body unless the soul gem is within 100 meters._

Kariya pursed his lips pensively. This soul gem sounded like a true Achilles' heel, incredibly powerful but with a crippling weakness if it was ever discovered by someone else.

 _The soul gem also automatically heals my physical injuries_ , Berserker continued. _I can recover from most wounds within seconds and can even regenerate severed limbs, although something that serious requires more...um, let's just use magic points for simplicity's sake. Similarly, I can heal other people too, but—as with severed limbs—it costs more MP. I also possess a modified version of the 'Mad Enhancement' class skill that lets me activate different ranks and decide how much of a mindless badass fueled by unstoppable rage I want to be. However, going loco has some rather nasty side-effects on my soul gem, so unless you want to see it blacken and explode you'll have to provide a_ _ **lot**_ _of magic to keep me going._

Berserker nonchalantly returned the soul gem to her belly button where it, in the instant her hand covered it and hid the gem from view, regained its c-shape. Kariya briefly wondered why she kept the gem in such a vulnerable position if it was so important but assumed she must have a reason.

 _As for weapons, I can create cutlasses. They are my weapon of choice, and I can wield them skillfully no matter how ax-crazy I become. Let me demonstrate._

The young servant extended her left arm to the side and opened her hand. One moment there was nothing there but invisible air, in the next there was a short beam of blue light, and then she clasped the grip of a simple but elegant cutlass. The sword's crossguard swept down to the pommel, and the blade was slightly over 30 inches long and tapered to a fine point. She thrust the end into the asphalt, and it sank in effortlessly.

"And finally, I receive combat bonuses if I'm fighting for a just cause," she finished, switching back to normal communication. "If I agree with your wish, then I vow on my honor as an ally of justice that I will do everything in my power to make it come true. If I don't...well, those bonuses will switch signs, and it doesn't take a math major to figure out what a disadvantage that'll be."

Berserker's gaze suddenly hardened, and she looked away from Kariya, focusing on something known only to her.

"More than that, though, I will not fight for evil. I promised to use my powers to protect people when I was still alive, Matou, and I won't betray that oath."

 _Is that a threat, or is it something else?_ , Kariya wondered, watching as a dark look crossed his servant's face. There was something there that she wasn't telling him; Kariya had spent enough time with children to sense when they were hiding things from him. However, it didn't seem wise to press the point, and he had other matters to consider. Her weak point aside, his servant sounded reassuringly formidable. He'd need to gather information about the other servants first, but it looked like he might be able to brute-force his way to victory, using Berserker's healing factor to surprise their enemies and then mowing them down with her strength and swords. It was a risky strategy, but for the Berserker class it might be the best one, and if she'd told him the truth about her abilities then there was at least one thing he could do to improve the odds.

"I don't think you have to worry about evil intent, at least where I'm concerned," Kariya reassured her. Leaning back and taking a deep breath, he continued.

"I can't speak for the other masters, but I'm certain that I have the best reason to fight for the Grail. Somebody...somebody very precious to me is counting on me to win, and if I lose she'll be condemned to a fate no young girl deserves. I'll tell you the whole story since we have the time...but I'd like to know your name first. It doesn't feel right to call you 'Berserker' all the time."

At that, his servant smiled.

"Miki Sayaka, at your service, and I—"

Sayaka's face suddenly turned aghast as her soul gem flared. "Crap! There's another servant nearby! I'm going to turn immaterial; if we're lucky we can avoid detection. You don't look up to a fight right now, Matou, and—"

Anything else Sayaka had planned to say was silenced by the brilliant bolt of lightning that shot down from the heavens and the loud sound of thunder nearby.

* * *

Elsewhere that same night, Kotomine Kirei frowned slightly. He was a tall man in his mid-twenties with a compact, muscular build, tussled brown hair, and dispassionate brown eyes, and the minor scowl was barely visible on his face. He was not given to strong displays of emotion and often came across as tightly disciplined and subdued to those who knew him. Those who knew him better believed his restrained temperament reflected a vague dissatisfaction with his life, a sense of purposelessness borne from uncertainty over what God wanted him to do despite his ability to rapidly master any field he applied himself to. Only the one who had known him best, his late wife, truly understood just how deeply troubled his soul was, and she had killed herself to give him relief. She had failed.

The man standing across from him in the mansion's study was a sharp contrast in nearly every regard. Tohsaka Tokiomi was grinning with irrepressible elation, and only a lifetime of maintaining an elegant composure kept the smile from growing unseemly large. He was also shorter and slender, immaculately groomed with light brown hair, sharp yet charming blue eyes, and an expertly styled goatee, and clothed in a fine crimson suit as opposed to Kirei's plain priest's vestments. The most significant distinction between the two men, though, was that Tokiomi knew his purpose. He was a magus and the head of the Tohsaka family, and it was his duty, his goal, and his passion to advance his family's thaumaturgy and, if possible, reach Akasha, the Root and source of all things. And as of a few hours ago, he had moved immeasurably closer to that normally distant goal of all true magi.

Kirei served the Holy Church. Tokiomi was a member of the Mage's Association. Kirei was the Master of Assassin. Tokiomi had summoned Archer. These two men should have been enemies, but instead they were secret allies in the Fourth Holy Grail War. The Tohsaka family had spent decades cultivating friendships within the Church, and the Church, for its part, had decided that if a magic artifact of the Grail's power were to fall into anybody's hands it should be someone they knew wouldn't misuse it. And so, three years ago when Kirei had awoken to find three command seals inscribed on the back of his right hand, he had been assigned to Tokiomi—ostensibly as his apprentice—with instructions to ensure the Tohsaka won the war. Kirei obeyed his orders without complaint, but he remained troubled by the unanswered question of why the Grail had chosen him, a priest of the Holy Church, as a master.

"I know that look, Kirei. Please, speak what's on your mind. Archer has decided to...'no longer grace us with his presence and see this benighted settlement we call a city with his own eyes' I believe his exact words were, your father has left for the church, and Assassin is outside searching for familiars, so we're alone now."

Kirei's frown disappeared as he turned to address Tokiomi, who was holding a goblet of red wine in his right hand and taking the occasional leisurely sip, but he did not relax. In the three years he had served Tokiomi he'd earned the Tohsaka patriarch's trust and respect. Tokiomi even regarded Kirei as a friend, at least insomuch as any proper magus—who would always prioritize magic above all else—employed the term. Kirei, in contrast, was indifferent to his partner; he appreciated Tokiomi's foresight in his extensive preparations for the Fourth Grail War, but he believed the man's pride as a magus blinded him to his shortcomings—both personal and strategic—and he found it...tedious to deal with him at times.

"Is giving your servant such leeway wise, Tokiomi? The war won't officially begin until Caster is summoned, but according to my father the ritual has been successfully completed for the other servants. And with the exception of the Einzbern's, they are all somewhere in Fuyuki right now. We should keep Archer in reserve until our opponents have been identified by Assassin."

Tokiomi nodded in agreement but otherwise appeared unconcerned. "Yes, yes, that would be best, but at this early stage in the war it shouldn't matter much. Most servants and masters will be using tonight to learn more about each other and strategize, and even if one pair is out and about instead and encounters Archer...well, it would be more appropriate for me to pray for their souls than worry about my servant, considering who he is. And besides, can you envision Archer accepting any restrictions on his freedom? No, it is better to accommodate him for now and save my command seals for when they're truly needed."

"Perhaps," Kirei muttered. He slowly walked around the room until he stood facing the large panel windows overlooking the courtyard. His brown eyes narrowed as he gazed into the darkness, searching. He was less sanguine than his ally and had enough personal experience with conflicts to know better than to assume the enemy would behave as you expected and, more importantly, to naively believe that they would all follow the same rules. Still, Tokiomi was accurate about Archer—the servant's aura of arrogance and entitlement was actually oppressive, just as the overwhelming power he possessed made it clear what would happen to those who angered him.

 _Gilgamesh's willfulness will likely grow without restraint and cause us problems, but if Tokiomi won't reign in his servant then I certainly can't_ , Kirei thought pensively. _It might have been better for Tokiomi to go for compatibility rather than power, but it's too late now. We should focus on the next stage of the plan._

"You will still have me attack with Assassin the same night Caster is summoned?"

Tokiomi started to nod but paused, stroked his chin thoughtfully with his free hand, and then shook his head in the negative.

"On second thought, waiting an extra night or two would be wiser. We can carry out our deception at any time. Delay costs us nothing and actually benefits us in several respects, and we should make as much use of Assassin as we can while he can still move openly. Your servant's noble phantasm is a godsend in that regard and in accomplishing his other purpose. Before I learned of it I had wondered how we would make our 'break' look convincing, but this should fool everyone."

Again, Kirei had doubts but did not disagree. The ruse wouldn't need to convince everyone to work; all it needed to succeed was a lack of sufficient evidence for anyone to demand Kotomine Risei—the war's overseer and Kirei's father—deny his son sanctuary in his church. The deception would free Assassin to watch all the other servants in secret, and if Kirei chose he could simultaneously pursue his only true interest in the war and seek out Emiya Kiritsugu. The Magus Killer appeared to be a man like him, but, unlike Kirei, Emiya seemed to have found a meaning to his life. Kirei wanted to know what that meaning was. Desperately.

Kirei suddenly felt an uncharacteristic sense of eagerness but quickly quashed it. His official mission had to come first, and in a conflict of this nature he couldn't afford distractions.

"And you're certain you can convince Archer to play along?"

The fire magus laughed at the inquiry. "Archer is a king. Punishing those who are seen to trespass is one of his duties, regardless of how genuine the crime truly is. I'm sure he won't have any issues with our deception once I explain it to him. Indeed, I suspect he will even be eager when he learns that he'll have an audience."

"Assassin has only located two types of familiars thus far. If Caster shows up soon, it might be a rather small audience."

Tokiomi shook his head and smiled knowingly.

"Trust me on this, Kirei. The other masters may be distracted tonight, but they won't waste a moment of time in the coming days. Every hour they have before Caster is summoned is another hour they can use to plan and prepare. By tomorrow night my mansion should be under constant surveillance by scores of familiars. Any master who doesn't keep tabs on the estates of the three founding families is either insane or ignorant, and while I've been blessed with good fortune by having you as an ally I doubt I will be as lucky when it comes to the caliber of our opponents."

Tokiomi moved to stand beside Kirei at the end of the room and also let his gaze wander out over the courtyard and beyond into the city.

"From here on out, Kirei, we must both be extremely vigilant and prepared for any development. There's no telling who or what we'll be up against."

* * *

A child, a giant, and a magic chariot summoned by lightning and driven by two divine bulls stood in Riverside Park near the riverbank. The child—actually a diminutive nineteen-year-old British magus—didn't know whether to shout in joy at the manifestation of the power possessed by the giant—actually a hirsute, heavily muscled heroic spirit—or pull out his black hair in frustration at how ridiculous his life had become.

"And now that you've witnessed my power, boy, come! Let us share the joy of another victory as I add more conquests to my name. The bookstore has already fallen before my supremacy, so let us advance to the...I believe you called it a 'grocery store'?...and conquer!"

"No, no, no! You don't conquer a supermarket! You go there to purchase food!" the much put upon youth attempted to explain, hoping against hope that for once his servant would actually _listen_ and understand his words.

"It's a supply depot, then? Even better!" the crimson-haired servant declared enthusiastically as he slammed a large fist into the open palm of his other hand. "Securing a reliable supply chain this early in the campaign will make our western march even easier! Onward to Macedonia!"

The young master sighed. His name was Waver Velvet, and he had stolen a relic and traveled to Japan to prove himself as a magus by competing in the Fourth Grail War. Back at London's Clock Tower when he had made the decision, the war had sounded like the perfect opportunity to show all the teachers and peers who dismissed him as a mere "third-generation magus" that they were wrong and that talent and hard work could compensate for and even surpass the importance of bloodlines. Now, though, confronted by the reality of his maddeningly headstrong servant who seemed to deliberately misunderstand his every word and order, Waver wondered if staying in London and hitting the books harder might have been the better recourse.

 _No, don't doubt yourself now! Remember, the Grail chose you over the aristocrats back home! Your command seals are proof that your genius has been recognized, and if you win the entire Mage's Association will respect you!_

Waver calmed himself with those comforting thoughts. He had come this far and had already achieved what most magi could only dream of by summoning a heroic spirit as a servant, and that was clear proof that this war was where he should be. Regretting his choices now would be foolish.

"Or perhaps we should head east? A naval campaign could be fun, and adding the Americas to my kingdom would give my people another cause to celebrate when I return to Greece!"

 _But regretting my choice of a catalyst is an entirely different matter!_ , Waver mentally groaned, face-palming. _Who knew Iskandar the Great was such an idiot?_

Confronted with his master's unmistakable distress at his antics, the resurrected King of Conquerors did what came naturally to him and slapped Waver heartily on the back—nearly knocking the teenager off his feet—and laughed cheerfully.

"There's no need for the long face, boy. I understand that you prefer to focus on the Grail right now, and I share your eagerness for that battle. The chance to match myself against fellow legends is an opportunity no true hero would pass up. However, the Grail is only one battle, and life is full of them. You must never forget to look ahead and set your sights on the horizon!"

Waver sighed again, and Rider rolled his eyes. His master was young and immature and it remained to be seen if they could work effectively together, but the servant saw potential in his master and, if nothing else, the child was amusing.

Rider's hearty smile suddenly froze, and in a complete turnabout in mood he became deadly serious and turned to look deeper into the park. A thoughtful expression crossed his rugged face as Waver, noticing his servant's unusual silence, gazed up at him questioningly.

"What's the matter now? Please don't tell me you saw something in the bookstore you forgot to grab and want to go back!"

The servant's lips quirked up slightly, and his mood lightened again as he shook his head.

"No no, nothing of the sort. Anyway, we should return to our fortress and make war preparations!"

"The Mackenzies' house is not a fortress, and you didn't answer my question! Rider, what—"

Rider ignored his master's queries as he sent one last look into the park's recesses.

 _Tonight is a time to celebrate our miraculous resurrections and this glorious opportunity to forge new legends. I won't intrude upon your festivities, fellow servant, but only for this one night. When we meet again it will be as competitors in the Grail War, and it will be an encounter for the ages!_

"—and because I am your master, you should _listen_ to me! Now, what—Hey, Rider, put me down!" Waver protested as Rider casually picked him up, boarded his legendary chariot, and, following his master's orders, promptly set the young magus down.

"Oh no, you can't be serious! Rider, don't—AAAAIIIEEE!"

Surprisingly, Waver's screams could be heard over the sound of thunder as the chariot rose into the sky and took off at nearly lightning-fast speeds.

* * *

Sayaka felt both disgust and admiration as she watched her master sleep in the back-alley they'd retreated to after the rival servant moved outside her—and presumably his—detection range. Kariya looked ill and haunted as he lay in repose against a dumpster, his breathing ragged and his body periodically shaking from convulsions as he shouted in horror at nightmares only he could see. The servant was tempted several times to wake her master, but she knew he needed rest and so she resisted the urge while she battled and sorted out her own thoughts.

 _Gods, I can't believe I'm this shallow. So what if he looks like a sick hobo? He's enduring all this suffering to save a child!_ , she mentally berated herself as she stood guard in spirit form. It bothered her that her master's horrid appearance affected her; she was an ally of justice and shouldn't care about such things! And yet she did, a lifetime of learned prejudices and paternal warnings that she couldn't easily banish.

 _At least Kyouko isn't here. She'd never let me live this down._

With the spiritual equivalent of a sigh, Sayaka forced her mind to change gears and began mentally ticking off points on her fingers.

 _Okay, enough hating on myself. I did enough of that in life, and I'm better off using this time to review. So, super important point number one—I'm in an alternate world with completely different rules for magic and different terminology too. "Mana" refers to magic found naturally in the environment, "od" is magic produced by living things, and "magical energy" is the generic term for both, or something like that. Meh, I prefer magic and MP._

Her invisible gaze drifted towards her master as she ticked off the next point.

 _And this is also super important—there are no witches or wraiths in this world at all, it seems, so I'm completely dependent on my master to keep my soul gem sparkling. If his health gets any worse, that limitation could make things...challenging._

A shadowed image of the mermaid witch Oktavia von Seckendorff appeared in her mind, and Sayaka mentally shuddered. Oktavia was a nightmare she never need fear again thanks to Madoka, but she could still come far closer to the witch than she'd like if she wasn't careful. Especially if she used the noble phantasm she _hadn't_ told her master about, but until she knew more about her master and whether he'd use something as dangerous as that recklessly she didn't dare disclose Symposium Magarum's existence. It was her secret trump card, and she'd be thrilled if she could get through the entire war without activating it.

 _Although that's probably only wishful thinking if all my enemies are in the same league as that servant I sensed earlier...I can't read power levels, but if I could that aura would have definitely been over 9,000._

Sayaka's spiritual body tensed as she remembered the earlier near encounter. Even though the enemy servant had come no closer than the periphery of her detection range, his sheer presence had been almost overwhelming. Like charged energy in the air before a perfect storm—thick, heavy, and yet oddly invigorating. She was certain he had sensed her too; she had felt his attention turn in her direction, and she was both grateful and curious as to why he hadn't come after her. Was his master similarly exhausted after the summoning? Did his intense aura belie a weak body? Did he not think her worth his time?

 _Eh, I'm sure I'll run into whoever that was again, so if I really want to I can always ask later. And on that note, super important point number three! I've been summoned into a war where my enemies are six "heroic spirits," resurrected heroes whose legends left a mark on history and continue to be told today, and their masters, all supposedly great and powerful magi. Not exactly great odds for me, but Madoka wouldn't send me here if it was completely hopeless, and there's somebody counting on my master and me to win._

The alleyway's atmosphere suddenly became heavier and more oppressive, reflecting Berserker's anger as she recalled what Kariya had told her about Sakura. He'd been light on details, presumably because he saw her as a child, but Sayaka had witnessed enough horrors and tragedies in the repeated time loops she'd lived through—and more often than not died in—to fill in the blanks. After hearing Kariya's story it had taken most of her limited self-control not to rush back to the Matou mansion and pincushion Zouken with cutlasses, although if what her master had said was true that would do little more than inconvenience the evil old man. Still, it infuriated her to know that something so absolutely vile and terrible was being done to a child and that she was powerless to stop it.

 _Patience, Sayaka. Patience. If there ever was a good reason to lose my cool this would be it, but getting too worked up about this'll only blacken my soul gem faster, and I_ _ **definitely**_ _don't want that. Sakura will be freed when Kariya and I win the Grail, and then Zouken will get what he deserves if I have any say in the matter. Kariya may have made a promise, but that doesn't bind me and I refuse to let such evil go unpunished!_

More ragged coughing from her master caused Sayaka's train of thought to switch tracks again, and as it did an idea occurred to her. She couldn't do anything about the parasitic worms in her master's body if she wanted to remain in this world since without them her master wouldn't have enough magic power to sustain her, but maybe she could repair some of the damage they had caused? She had some magic of her own in reserve, and so long as she didn't push her healing powers extensively she could probably get by without draining too much additional magic from her master.

Deciding it was worth a try, the young servant reassumed her material body and slowly walked over to the fitfully sleeping Kariya. Carefully kneeling beside him, she held up her hands, concentrated, and smiled softly as a warm blue glow surrounded them.

"Heh, who would've thought Berserker could be a healing class? Anyway, sleep in peace, Matou. You've convinced me that your cause is worth fighting for, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that we win and that you make it through this war alive. I haven't met Sakura, but no one could possibly be happy if their savior goes off and dies on them, and everyone knows that the hero and the heroine are supposed to live happily ever after at the end of the story. For her sake I'll make another happy ending, even if I have to pay the same price again."

Silence reigned in the alleyway for a moment as the dirty environment bore mute witness to the puella magi's solemn promise, but then Sayaka broke the quiet spell herself by throwing her head back and chuckling.

"Gods, I've _really_ gotta stop being so melodramatic all the time or else people will get the wrong idea about me," she commented, amusedly noting that perhaps she was taking all the shounen manga she'd read a bit too closely to heart. "I may be willing to die for a good cause, but I'd much rather _live_ , and I think that's something we can both agree on, Matou. So, rest and let my healing magic work its...well, magic."

Shaking her head and muttering a quiet 'tsk,' Sayaka placed her glowing hands on Matou Kariya's chest and watched as the magic seeped into his body. She'd know in the next few minutes whether this would work or not.

* * *

In his sleep Kariya drifted through nightmares—being devoured by ravenous insects while Zouken watched and laughed; Sakura looking up at him with the haunted, hopeless eyes that broke his heart every time he saw them and blaming him for her suffering; a massive, steel-gray armored giant lowering a titanic cutlass in judgment while wheels spun cacophonously in the dark background; Sakura again, but this time screaming and crying out for help as the Matou crest worms violated her again and again while he watched, powerless to do anything—until he found himself reliving a memory he would have been happy to forget.

Daylight. A park. A young, black-haired girl wearing a white shirt and red skirt. An older but still beautiful woman with long, yellow-green hair and a graceful smile.

Rin and Aoi. Two women who, along with Sakura, he cherished more than his own life. A daughter and mother who might have been his own family if he'd been a more heartless, selfish person...if he'd accepted the life and values of a magus and been willing to put Aoi through the Matou's reprehensible training.

 _"Sakura's gone now."_

When Rin had first spoken those words, Kariya's heart had seized with terror. Had there been an accident? Had Sakura died? The truth had almost matched his greatest fears and had been, in some ways, even worse.

 _"You see, Sakura is no longer my daughter or Rin's little sister. She's...gone to the Matou."_

Kariya had never told Aoi the truth about the Matou's magecraft. He'd never thought she'd need to know, and he hadn't wanted to trouble her with such terrible knowledge. On that day in the park, though, he had been consumed with bittersweet regret at his silence; he was relieved that Aoi did not and could not possibly know the hell she had consigned her youngest daughter to, but he was furious at himself for not speaking up earlier. If Aoi had known the truth, he was certain, she would never have let Zouken adopt Sakura. There was no way Aoi's gentle soul could have tolerated such a thing.

 _"You know why the Matou family would desire children who carry the blood of mages."_

Those words had stung deeply, but he couldn't resent Aoi for them, not when she was obviously suffering so much and trying so hard to cover it up. And because he had kept so many things secret from her, she simply didn't understand. He had left the Matou _for her_ , so she could have the happiness she so richly deserved with a man he had believed would treat her well.

 _"The Tohsaka family elders decided to give our ancient allies, the Matou, that which they requested. It wasn't my place to speak out."_

But apparently he'd overestimated Tokiomi, who was a damned fool so locked into the mindset of a magus that he couldn't appreciate what was right in front of him. Tokiomi had a loving wife, beautiful children, and a comfortable home—everything needed for a heaven on earth as far as Kariya was concerned—so what was the point in reaching for Akasha? The Root couldn't possibly possess any treasures greater than those sublime human joys.

He'd asked Aoi if she was all right with what had happened...

 _"When I married into the Tohsaka family, when I decided to marry a mage, I was prepared for this."_

She was evading the question, speaking general truths that had nothing to do with her true feelings. Maybe he should have been more tactful, but the brave front she was putting up pained him. Aoi should never have felt the need to wear a mask to hide her feelings, and he wanted to break it, to see a glimmer of the real Aoi again and hear her be honest, if not with him then at least with herself! And so he had asked again...

 _"A clan bearing mage blood can never expect the happiness of a normal family."_

But if she wasn't happy with Tokiomi, then what had been the point of him giving her up? Life with the Matou would have been terrible for her, but at least he would have loved her and placed her first in his life! He...he could have made her happy...if only...

 _"This is between the Tohsaka and the Matou. You left the world of mages. It doesn't concern you."_

Dismissal. He would have needed to be an even bigger fool than he felt he was in that moment to have missed the finality in Aoi's words. She wouldn't discuss the topic any further with him. She couldn't be honest with him now...just as he couldn't be honest with her so many years ago.

 _"If you ever see Sakura, be kind to her. She was always fond of you..."_

The final nail in the coffin. All his sacrifices had been for nothing. Aoi was hiding a broken heart, and Zouken had gotten his hands on her family anyway. Everything he'd done to protect them had not only been pointless, it had caused the very grief he'd wanted to spare them from.

Kariya had made his decision to fight for the Holy Grail then. It was a crazy plan, but he knew the Grail was the only thing Zouken genuinely cared about and that it was the one bargaining chip he could use to negotiate Sakura's freedom.

More importantly, though, he wasn't Tokiomi. He couldn't put his own life and single-minded goals before everything and everyone else heedless of the pain he caused doing so. Instead, he sacrificed his own happiness for those he loved, and if that meant risking his life too...so be it. He wasn't a complete fool and knew his odds in this war were laughably poor, but if there was even a small chance...he had to take it. He'd already failed at achieving any of the good he'd hoped to accomplish, and returning the smile to Sakura's face was the best possible use he could put his now otherwise worthless life too. Was it wrong for him to want to believe he could save her? To hope that his determination and effort would be enough?

 _"If someone tells me it's wrong to hope, I'll tell them they're wrong every time."_

The gentle female voice sounded as if it came from long ago and far away, like the sound of surf in a fossil shell. With a start, Kariya turned in his dream and in the distance glimpsed an unspeakably beautiful sight that simultaneously tore itself from his mind with each passing second. It might have been a star, it might have been a girl; he couldn't possibly forget it, and yet it was impossible for him to remember it. All he knew was that, somewhere in that glimmer of warm pink light, he felt as though something or someone was smiling reassuringly at him.

Kariya drifted back into his dreams, and for the first time in nearly a year he slept peacefully.


	3. Ch2 – A Girl's Gotta Have a Few Secrets

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Two – A Girl's Gotta Have a Few Secrets.

When he awoke the next morning, Matou Kariya felt stronger and healthier than he had in months. The crest worms continued their incessant nibbling on his flesh and were hungrier than ever before now that he was sustaining a servant, but the debilitation they'd wrecked on his body seemed less severe and the pain that constantly clouded his mind had dimmed.

 _The wonders of a good night's rest_ , Kariya thought to himself wistfully as he reflexively raised both arms and stretched. _It's been a long time since I was able to sleep halfway peacefully. Last night's summoning must have exhausted me more than I realized. Probably won't happen again until—Wait, what?!_

Jolting in surprise, Kariya twisted his head to the side and gazed at the formerly all but paralyzed left arm now raised above his head. Experimentally, he attempted to gesture with it and found the limb sluggish, weak, and sore, but it was far more responsive than it had been in months. What could have happened overnight to do this?

"I see you're enjoying my handiwork," a cheerful and immensely satisfied female voice called out behind him from the side of the dumpster. "I wasn't sure if I'd done enough to help with the arm, and any further healing magic would have emptied out my reserves and started tapping your own MP. So, although it's not a complete recovery, I'm glad what little I was able to do last night made a difference."

"Berserker...you healed me while I slept?" Kariya mumbled, happy that he was a few steps farther from becoming a shambling corpse than he had been last night but also annoyed that his servant had done something like that without his permission. Master-servant dynamics aside, he preferred to be awake and aware when magic was used on him, especially because the crest worms were so easily agitated.

Kariya heard a sheepish, almost apologetic chuckle and the sound of a light body getting up from leaning against a solid surface.

"I would have asked first, but you were having a hard enough time staying asleep as it was and I didn't want to wake you," Sayaka answered as she walked over and crouched in front of her master. To Kariya's surprise, she was clothed in a light, hoodless blue jacket, a pair of matching jeans, and white and blue sneakers instead of her cloth armor from the night before. "Unfortunately, my magic was more palliative than healing in your case and I can't get at the root of the problem without dealing with the crest worms, but hey—every little bit helps, right?"

Kariya nodded and slowly rose to his feet. She was so earnest that he couldn't be mad at her. Still, he'd better say something to make sure she didn't do something like this again without telling him first.

"I'm grateful, but I'd rather you focus on maintaining your full strength than on restoring mine. My body wouldn't be much use in this conflict even if I was in perfect health, and if we're ever ambushed you'll need every ounce of power available. So, unless I'm in desperate need of healing, please conserve your energies, okay?"

The youthful servant sighed but didn't disagree as she also stood. "If you say so, Matou, but in return I ask that you don't do anything foolish and look after yourself properly. I can't be expected not to spam healing spells if you're falling apart...and as everyone knows, one of the most important tenets of good health is eating right, so how about breakfast? I could really go for some rolled omelets and fish!"

Kariya blinked and bit back a chuckle. He'd walked right into that one, hadn't he? It seemed his servant could be almost as manipulative as Rin when she wanted something. However, as much as a hearty meal appealed to him, he wasn't in any condition to show himself in a public market, and there was a harsher reality too.

"Much as I'd like that, I'm afraid I only have a couple hundred yen on me."

Simply put, Kariya was destitute. However, instead of being disappointed, Sayaka smiled smugly at the news.

"Heh, I thought that might be the case. Fortunately, magical girl and occasional nurse Miki Sayaka has a super brilliant plan!"

* * *

Hisau Maiya was not easily surprised. Terrible experience—first as an unwilling child soldier and then as a freelance assassin in both the mundane and magical worlds—had robbed the black-haired, brown-eyed woman of much of her ability to feel amazement. Maiya herself had done the rest, withdrawing into a machine-like mindset of viewing herself as nothing more than a tool belonging to the man who had first saved her, then trained her, and finally enlisted her in his bloody crusade to save mankind from its own evils. To her, Emiya Kiritsugu was the only person who mattered, and she was indifferent to everything else outside of how it might affect him.

However, as substantial as her stoicism was, it was not without limits. And the phone call she received that morning severely tested those limits.

"A servant is doing _what_ _ **where**_?" she spoke quietly into the cell-phone, a rare note of incredulity in her voice. "Are you absolutely certain?"

A series of affirmatives answered her queries, and Maiya took a minute to methodically confirm several more details before she ended the call and put the cell-phone away. The intelligence network she and Kiritsugu had built in Fuyuki relied heavily on the local yakuza for surveillance and a mix of familiars and spiritually sensitive individuals they'd hired to detect and track the more esoteric happenings. Her recent contact belonged to the latter camp, and if his odd report was accurate then a fuller investigation by someone trained in magecraft was called for. And with Kiritsugu and his Einzbern wife still in Germany, that reduced the possibilities to herself.

Sparing a moment to calculate how long the trip would take on foot, Maiya turned and began to walk purposefully through Fuyuki's western half towards the Mount Miyami shopping district. She ignored the appreciative stares she garnered from men she passed on the way; clothed in an iron black business suit that hugged her slender figure, Maiya knew clinically that she was an attractive woman but took no steps to either enhance or downplay her beauty. Her appearance didn't matter to her unless it influenced a job, and she disliked the hassle of make-up.

It didn't take Maiya long to reach her destination, and she was soon navigating Mount Miyami's narrow streets and brick-paved sidewalks already filled with early morning shoppers, parked bikes, displays of merchandise, and promotional signs. Two and three story mixed-use commercial/residential properties with barely any space between them lined the sides and faced each other in parallel rows, competing with one another for attention and patronage. A small crowd had gathered on the street outside a music shop, and Maiya instinctively tensed as she drew near. Any lingering doubts that a servant was present vanished as she sensed the overwhelming, otherworldly presence of a heroic spirit. For a few moments she found it hard to breathe, as if the air had thickened, but she knew this was an illusion created by her sensitivity to magecraft and that those around her should all be oblivious to the heavy aura.

Reasserting her cold professionalism, Maiya resumed her strides and weaved herself into the throng, eventually stopping behind a red-haired boy holding the hand of a younger, black-haired girl who were both enthusiastically watching the scene taking place in front of them. Maiya's gaze was also fixed forward but for entirely different reasons than the two children's.

There, barely more than two yards away, was a servant, the material incarnation of a heroic spirit who had achieved deeds so great in life that her legend continued to be told today and a wielder of power so fantastic that even a Dead Apostle Ancestor would think twice before issuing a challenge. This was a superhuman, nearly miraculous being, a superior existence that inspired mankind and whom countless people sought to emulate no matter how impossible...and she was breakdancing. On a street. To 1980s American hip-hop music.

 _What the hell?_

The lyrics and beats blaring from the CD player the shop's owner had set up barely registered in Maiya's mind as she observed the incredible spectacle of the seemingly young, blue-haired servant go through a rapid 6-step sequence, her legs spinning in a circle and her body picking up momentum before she transitioned into a windmill flurry that continued for several seconds. The servant then converted her motion into a headspin and then flipped herself over, planted both hands firmly on the ground in front of her, spread her legs far into a boomerang shape, and whirled herself around repeatedly at dizzying speeds before hand-hopping into another 6-step sequence.

As Maiya's mind struggled to rationalize this bizarre sight, she glanced down and took note of the folded white blanket—a cape?, the mercenary wondered—draped on the street in front of the dancing heroic spirit. Whenever one of the spectators dropped coins into it the blue-haired servant would either flash them a brilliant smile or give them a thumbs up without interrupting the rhythm of her dance.

Maiya stayed long enough to verify that this wasn't an esoteric ritual designed to drain strength from the souls of spectators or an unorthodox summoning ceremony. Either would have made more sense to her than the absurd reality that a servant was apparently moonlighting as a street performer. Still, she couldn't detect any magic in the area other than that pertaining to the servant's existence, and with false acclaim on her face she clapped, added a few 10 and 50 yen coins of her own to the heroic spirit's growing collection, and then turned to leave.

 _Definitely not Assassin_ , Maiya thought analytically as she walked away and deliberately blended in with the wandering shoppers on the streets. _Hassan-i Sabbah would never be seen in public like that. Presumably not Berserker either—too little bloodlust and too much sanity. And I can rule Saber out altogether. So that leaves Archer, Caster, Lancer, or Rider. Kiritsugu will want to be briefed on this._

Ten minutes and several streets later Maiya took out her cell-phone again, dialed a number, and issued orders. She wanted pictures and video for her partner to review, and although she didn't understand why any servant would reveal themselves so casually for no apparent gain or why the master would permit it she did know that having a physical description and photos to disseminate to her agents would help them track the servant in the future. It might even aid in determining the servant's true identity—if she took the blue-haired girl's Japanese appearance at face value then the pool of candidates was already vastly reduced.

 _Still, I'd better refrain from making assumptions. As illogical as the servant's actions appear, there may still be a devious motive behind them. I underestimate the enemy servant and her master at my own peril._

* * *

Kariya groaned as he clutched his head in his hands and fought off vertigo.

 _Note to self—don't look through the eyes of your servant when she's hopping around like a spider monkey on crack. The next time you're curious what she's doing, just ask._

He groaned again but blearily forced himself to focus past the headache as he sat on a bench in Riverside Park. He'd experienced far worse in Zouken's basement, and while Berserker was busy he might as well use this time to contemplate strategy. Gods knew Tohsaka had probably spent his entire damnable life preparing for this conflict, and what little Kariya knew of the Einzbern made him regard them as potentially an even greater obstacle. Tohsaka, for all his _many_ faults, was a known quantity and would abide by the war's rules; the man was too prideful to cheat. The Einzbern, in contrast, were almost as ruthless and inhuman as Zouken and would do whatever it took to win. And then there were the other four masters to contend with, and he had no idea what they might be like and how much time they'd had to prepare.

 _I'd have to be an idiot or a madman to charge blindly ahead into this wretched mess_ , Kariya thought unhappily, snorting at the irony as he remembered his initial hopes for a servant powerful enough to do just that. _That certainly wouldn't have ended well, but at least with Berserker looking as young as she does I'll think twice before taking any big risks._

He remained in the park for over an hour, deep in thought until his servant finally showed up with a pleased expression on her face and offered him a bag filled with rolled omelets and curry bread.

"Sorry I took so long," Sayaka apologized as she ran her free hand through the back of her hair in embarrassment. "I forgot that I can't carry items when I'm immaterial, so I spent a good thirty minutes dashing down side streets and running up buildings just to play things safe. Oh, and I already ate, so don't worry about leaving any for me."

Kariya's stomach rumbled at the sweet smell of a decent meal, and he gratefully accepted the bag. He muttered a quiet "Itadakimasu" out of habit before grabbing one of the curry bread buns and digging in. In between bites he asked his servant a few of the questions that were on his mind.

"Thanks, I appreciate this...but wouldn't it have been easier to steal a meal than dance on the streets? And where'd you learn to dance like that anyway? Breakdancing isn't something I ever associated with heroic spirits."

Sayaka tsked playfully and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

" _Purists_ —" she declared in a faux superior tone, "—prefer the term 'breaking.' Breakdancing is a word invented by the media and is looked down upon by true _artists_ , and I'd appreciate it _very_ much if you don't degrade my performance by referring to it by such a _plebian_ name."

The magical girl only managed to keep a straight face for several seconds after her pronouncement before breaking out in laughter.

"Haha, sorry, but that was—Ha!—too good of an opportunity to pass up. Anyway, as for where I learned..." Sayaka's mind flashed back to the dance competition she and Madoka had both entered in late grade school and the crazy high jinks that had ensued, and she smiled enigmatically.

"Let's just say a girl's gotta have a few secrets and leave it at that, okay? And theft, by the way, is a big no-no. I have standards as an ally of justice, and I refuse to steal when there are better alternatives."

 _And I'm not just saying that because Kyouko would never stop smirking if she learned I stole food. Nope, definitely not!_

Kariya watched his servant carefully as she finished her explanations. Now that he'd had a decent night's sleep and his head was clearer, a few of her words were adding up oddly in his mind. It also occurred to him that he knew virtually nothing about Miki Sayaka other than her name, and he didn't recognize it despite the Japanese origin. Was she a warrior from the feudal era whose exploits remained unknown outside of local legends? A swordswoman from the classical period whose name was remembered only by scholars? A hero from ancient times whose legend had largely disappeared? And how was she so fluent with contemporary pop culture? He knew the Grail provided information about modern times, but providing dance lessons too struck him as a bit much.

 _Who are you, Berserker, and why haven't I heard of you before?_

The haggard Matou briefly contemplated asking the youthful servant to talk about her past but decided against it almost as quickly. If her recent answers were any indication she preferred to remain mysterious, and right now it was more important that they decide upon a battle plan. He'd ask her later, after she'd become more willing to trust him with her secrets.

 _Which hopefully won't be long at all. Gods know I'm already trusting her with my life and Sakura's future._

Kariya nodded his head nonchalantly after another moment, dismissed the semi-bitter thought, and finished chewing one of the rolled omelets.

"Fair enough. I wasn't expecting to get good meals out of this partnership, so I have no right to complain regarding how you go about it. Just remember to be careful and prepared to return to me at a moment's notice. The war's rules forbid combat where there could be witnesses so we should both be safe during the day if we stay in public areas, but that doesn't mean we won't be watched or that one of the other masters won't make use of a good opportunity if he sees one."

Sayaka smirked in response, snapped her fingers, spun, and was nearly instantaneously clothed in her blue and white battle attire as a blue disk of light rapidly traveled up her body. Another snap and another spin with another accompanying disk of light—this time traveling down—and the servant was wearing a long-sleeved, tan middle school uniform with a white-striped, black skirt and red bow. A third snap, spin, and circle of light and she was garbed in her earlier casual outfit of jeans and jacket again.

"That shouldn't be a problem, Matou. An ally of justice is always ready," she answered, sounding childishly pleased with herself.

"...Right." Kariya fell silent for another moment as he debated whether it was worth asking her about the wardrobe changes before shrugging and deciding to jump to the main issue he wanted to discuss.

"On a different matter, how much information did the Grail give you about the war? We should develop a strategy before the battles start, and it'd be helpful if you shared how much you know."

The servant shrugged apologetically. "Just the basics, I'm afraid. Seven masters, seven servants, three command seals each, and two separate wishes for the winning team. I don't know how any of it works other than that wizards did it."

Kariya grunted as he finished a curry bun. That wasn't as useful as he would have liked, but it was about what he'd expected. Zouken and the other founders who designed the Grail system wouldn't have wanted any of their secrets to leak out to unaffiliated magi and would have taken steps to minimize the information that was shared. Still, it was odd that she was virtually a walking encyclopedia on pop trends but knew so little about the war for which she'd been summoned.

"Let me start with the basics, then," he said as he set aside the bag of food and leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands. " _Zouken_ —" He nearly spat the name. "—created the Holy Grail along with the ancestors of the Tohsaka and Einzbern families. Like the Matou, those two are both guaranteed a slot in the War, and they'll likely be our greatest enemies. They've had sixty years to prepare and are top-notch magi, and, while this is true of all magi, it is especially true of the Einzbern—they can't be trusted at all. In their own way, they're just as obsessed with the Grail as Zouken is, and they established a reputation for breaking rules in the Third War. The remaining four masters could be anyone with magic circuits, although one set of command seals normally goes to somebody in the Mage's Association."

"Mage's Association?" Sayaka questioned.

"They're an organization of magi dedicated to self-preservation and research, and they're utterly ruthless when it comes to keeping magecraft hidden," he explained with a scowl, his mind dwelling on some of the horror stories he'd heard about the Association's Enforcers. "Whatever we do in this war, it is vitally important that we don't show any magic to bystanders. It's not unheard of for the Association to eliminate witnesses."

"That's horrible!" the blue-haired servant exclaimed with righteous anger. "Murdering someone over something so trivial? How can they _possibly_ justify that?"

Kariya sighed unhappily. Considering where he intended to lead this discussion, he should have phrased that more diplomatically.

"Magi...have a different value system," he explained slowly, restraining himself from speaking the worst despite his own feelings on the matter. "To a magus, perfecting spells and increasing their power and knowledge of magic is everything. And unfortunately for everyone else, magic is a finite resource that is weakened as more people know about it. That is why magi will do everything they can to keep magic hidden from the rest of society. In most cases they'll simply use hypnosis to erase memories, but there are times when they take more extreme measures."

"...So I should try to keep the big flashy lights and chanting in Latin to a minimum, then," Sayaka said after a pause, a displeased expression on her face at what she was hearing about the magi of this world.

Kariya nodded. "At least when you're around other people, yes. And as much as I hate saying this, we might need to team-up with one or two of the other masters, at least temporarily, to deal with the Einzbern and Tohsaka."

Sayaka looked at her master dubiously. "Didn't you just spend the past five minutes explaining to me how almost all magi are self-serving power maniacs who can't be trusted at all? And now you're suggesting we _ally_ with such people?"

"I'm not happy about the idea either," he grumbled with another scowl on his face, "but we might not have any other choice if we want to win. I'll wait and see what types of servants the other masters summon before making a decision, but I wanted to let you know about this ahead of time in case a partnership becomes necessary. Until then, I want you to scout Fuyuki and see if you can use your magic detection to find where the other masters and servants are staying. Knowing where our enemies are will be useful no matter what we do in the future."

Sayaka nodded her head reluctantly, still not fond of the prospect of allying with another master-servant team. "I suppose that makes sense...So, any suggestions where I should start? And what will you do while I scout?"

"I'll pay the war's overseer a visit," Kariya answered quickly, getting to his feet with a groan and picking up the bag of food. "Ever since the Second War's aftermath the Holy Church has sent a priest to mediate the conflict and enforce the rules. Fuyuki's church grounds are neutral territory so I'll be safe while I'm there, and I need to set-up a familiar in that area anyway to receive the overseer's updates about the war. Part of his responsibilities is letting the combatants know which masters and servants have been eliminated."

"Can you trust the Church?" the young servant asked suspiciously. "You've already told me to be wary of the Mage's Association and magi in general, and from the sound of it nearly everyone involved in this war has a strike against them of one sort or another."

The emaciated Matou laughed at the question with unusually vicious pleasure in his voice.

"Zouken _hates_ the Church," Kariya explained with a smile. "He can't stand them, and if they raise his hackles _that_ much they must be good."

* * *

"I can confirm Matou Kariya as a master," Kotomine Risei spoke into the enchanted phonograph set on a pedestal within the stone walls of his church. Night had fallen outside, and now that he was free from his daytime activities the gray-haired priest felt it was time to share what he'd learned with his fellow conspirators. "He stopped by several hours ago to ask a few questions and station a familiar within the permitted range outside the church grounds."

There was a pause on the other end before Tohsaka Tokiomi answered from the phonograph's counterpart in his mansion's basement. "...It is as we suspected, then. What did he say, and did he bring his servant with him?"

Risei's eyebrows furrowed further over his seemingly perpetually closed eyes as he recalled the earlier meeting. "He mostly wanted to know what I could tell him about the other masters and servants and if there had been any early rule changes. I informed him that Caster has yet to be summoned and, because it is common knowledge, verified for him that you have been chosen as a master and that my son has been serving as your apprentice for the past three years. Surprisingly, he did not know about the latter, but I left him with the impression that I strongly disapproved of my son's 'choice' to study the heretical arts to reassure him of my neutrality. His servant was not with him, and he did not reveal its class."

Tokiomi sighed distastefully. "No, I suppose not even Kariya would be that foolish. Did you learn anything else from him?"

The old priest nodded his head out of habit despite the absence of anyone else in the room. "Yes. Kariya's health has deteriorated greatly since he was last seen in public. He had difficulty walking, and I doubt he has more than a few months left to live. The Matou magecraft has...taken a great toll on him."

"That's only to be expected," Tokiomi replied without missing a beat. There was an aggrieved note in his voice as he continued, as if his sensibilities had been offended. "Kariya abandoned the path of the magus long ago, and trying to make up for that negligence in a single year is the height of recklessness. His selection as a master would be an insult if the Grail weren't compelled to assign the Matou a set of command seals along with the Einzbern and me."

Risei remained silent. As the priest assigned to Fuyuki he knew more about Zouken and the mysteries of his magecraft than any non-Matou with the possible exception of Tokiomi, and he also knew that Tokiomi had given his youngest daughter to the Matou for adoption. That was a decision he had disapproved of, but he had never spoken of it to his friend. It was a matter between magi, and in all of his dealings with Tokiomi since then the man had never mentioned Sakura and acted as if he'd never had a second daughter. Risei had idly wondered if the news of Kariya's ill health after going through training that Sakura was surely experiencing as well might elicit a reaction from Tokiomi, but it seemed the answer was no.

 _Becoming a grandfather has made me too expectant_ , the priest reflected wryly, thinking of his son's daughter Caren. _Tokiomi is a good man, but first and foremost he is a magus. His sense of family values is completely different from my own._

"Still, although Kariya is a disgrace to his bloodline, his selection as a master is another sign that fortune is favoring us," Tokiomi spoke musingly. Risei could easily imagine the man was stroking his goatee as he thought out loud. "Lord El-Melloi lost his original catalyst and used a hastily procured and presumably inferior substitute, the Matou master enters the war crippled and with only makeshift training, the Grail—thankfully—did not choose an Edelfelt as a master this time, and none of the other powerful magi families have shown themselves in Fuyuki either. That leaves the Einzbern as the most serious obstacle to our victory."

"The Einzbern must not be underestimated," Risei agreed solemnly, his mind flashing back to his experiences in the Third Holy Grail War when he'd been a young man in his early twenties and only just beginning his career as a member of the Church's Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. "Even after they lost their servant in the last war they refused to accept defeat and abused their role as the Lesser Grail's caretaker to remain active in the conflict. They bear much responsibility for the horrific bloodshed that followed...but no master and servant should ever be underestimated, or do I need to remind you again of the Third War's Assassin?"

Tokiomi laughed while Risei smiled slightly. There was nothing funny about what the previous Assassin had done, but when coupled with the bizarre manner in which he'd cooperated with his master to eliminate enemies the tale served as an effective warning about the dangers even a weak master and servant could pose together. Risei himself had never been able to look at dolls the same way again after seeing that Assassin's handiwork, and between the two conspirators it had taken on the air of an old story often told and repeated as a friendly cautionary tale.

"Don't worry, Risei. I've taken your lessons to heart," the fire magus spoke gratefully. "My grandfather gave me the same admonition when I was younger. I won't dismiss any of the enemy masters as threats until their servants have been eliminated and they've either withdrawn from the war or perished, but prioritizing the Einzbern is—at least for now—the most sensible course...unless you perceived something about Kariya that makes you think he warrants more attention?"

Risei hesitated. On the face of it, Matou Kariya did not appear to be someone Tokiomi needed to worry about. Kariya was an inferior magus who wouldn't even be able to compete properly without the Matou magecraft boosting his lackluster power, and any servant he summoned would be weaker as a consequence. With Kariya's health as poor as it was, there was even a chance his servant's exertions in combat could kill him if the magic drain became too much. However, although Kariya had tried to hide it while they talked, Risei had seen the desperation and crazed determination in his eyes. Such things could make even a harmless man dangerous, and when that man was also a master...

"No, but we should remain cautious until we've identified his servant," the old priest said firmly. "The master may be a man of little consequence, but Matou Zouken has centuries' worth of catalysts from which to summon a powerful heroic spirit, and that may be enough to make Kariya...disruptive, at the very least."

That was what Risei said and what logic and common sense assured him was true, but despite his words the war's overseer couldn't shake the niggling suspicion that Kariya would be more of a thorn in their side than anyone expected.

 _And God help us all if the Matou get their hands on the Grail._

* * *

Sayaka was living the dream of every shounen enthusiast and martial artist wannabe as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, a caped crusader patrolling the night and fighting evil by moonlight...minus the evil part, and the fighting too, but she was trying not to be too disappointed by that. For now her mission was simply to explore the city and learn where the other masters and servants were staying. Her own master had already shown her where the Tohsaka mansion and Einzbern estate were located, and whoever was residing in the Hyatt Hotel in the eastern half of Fuyuki wasn't even attempting to hide his presence. The hotel's upper levels were so saturated with defensive spells that her soul gem had detected the magic from nearly twice its normal range. And with three locations known, that left only three more to find.

However, despite her relative success thus far and the rush of adrenaline the puella magi experienced as she darted through Miyami's southern residential neighborhoods and sprinted over the predominantly western-style homes, her thoughts were unsettled. Part of her was irritated at herself for being upset over her master's suggestion of allying with another team. Forming a partnership was the smart thing to do, and gods knew Madoka would have embraced the possibility if she'd been able to come here herself. For Sayaka, though, the prospect was a reminder of darker times when she'd been the weakest of her puella magi friends, and she resented the implication that she might not be strong enough on her own to do the job she was summoned for.

Still, that was a only a minor annoyance, and Sayaka could comfort herself with the knowledge that she was stronger now, armed with the composite skills and experience she'd gained from Homura's repeated looping of time. More importantly, she was wiser too. She knew it would take more than a wish and righteousness to be victorious in this war, and if she was going to win she needed to focus on her strengths, do what she could rather than dwell on what she couldn't, and under no circumstances lose sight of what she was fighting for.

No, what disturbed her thoughts the most this night was something harder to put into words. From the moment she'd entered this section of the city she'd felt a sense of _wrongness_ , of _violation_ in the air. There was something so unnaturally and fundamentally _vile_ present she could almost mistake it for the hate-filled, cursed miasma of the wraiths she'd once fought, but she knew that was impossible. There were no wraiths in this world. This ambiance had to be caused by something else, but what could possibly invoke such dread? She'd already doubled back twice to track the source rather than continuing on to the next neighborhood, but thus far her search had been futile. The servant felt her frustration mount as tiny black motes began to form inside her soul gem—

 _Over there!_ , she thought, relieved as her soul gem finally registered a 'ping' nearby. She had no idea if the magic she'd just detected had any relation to what was happening tonight, but she desperately wanted an explanation and was eager for a distraction.

A few more minutes of roof-hopping brought Sayaka to the former edge of her one kilometer detection range, and she alighted on the top of a house across the street from a small family home. Crouching to make herself less visible, she examined the nearby building with both her mundane and magical senses. The front lights were on but the rest of the house was dark, and although she could sense magic within it felt weak and listless, as if something had swelled up and then burst and was now nearly completely spent. If there was a second source of magic present, it was far weaker and clouded by the first. More ominously, the sense of malice in the air had grown palpably thicker the closer she'd come to this building, and it was now so thick she felt like gagging. She wasn't going to learn anything more by standing outside, though, and if she wanted answers she knew she'd need to enter the house.

 _Heh, that's an easy choice. I'm not sensing any servants so, strictly speaking, this doesn't fall under my orders for tonight, but something's definitely fishy and I'm sure Matou would agree that anything involving magic is worth investigating, particularly when it's at the center of something as foul as this...super nasty vibe I'm feeling. I'll take a quick look inside and see what I can find. An ally of justice would do nothing less._

With a wry grin on her face, Sayaka leapt off the roof, shifted into her invisible spirit form in mid-air, and then floated across the street and phased through the home's front door. What she saw inside the lit foyer was so shocking and unexpected that she reflexively reverted back to her material body and gagged, horror and disgust welling up in her throat.

 _Gods, what could have...how?_

Blood and the eviscerated remains of a young boy lay haphazardly splattered against the floor of the home's main hallway and stained the walls and ceiling. Sayaka could only identify the gender and rough age of the victim by a sheared off section of the child's head that had landed on a low side-table and was slightly more intact than the other shredded remnants. The full sight was a vision of appalling, wanton slaughter that sickened Sayaka to the core of her being...and it was uncomfortably familiar to the young girl as her memories called up a similar scene from a train with two strangers.

 _"No way, man, you can't let the dumb slut make any excuses. Gotta get her to fork over all the money she makes, no shit."_

 _"'Cuz women are complete morons. They get money in their hands and they blow it all on stupid crap."_

 _"Yeah, seriously, man...You can't treat women like rational human beings."_

The puella magi furiously shook her head to clear it of the despicable conversation she'd overheard that tragic night and the subsequent actions she'd taken. She...she needed to focus on the here and now, find out what had happened and what it had to do with magic! Hastily looking away from the horrid shower of viscera, she reached for the nearest door, pushed it open, and staggered into the living room. The lights were off, but she could see fine with her night vision and the sight that greeted her was even worse.

There were two adult bodies in the room, one with its head decapitated and turned sideways on the floor. It seemed a safe assumption that these were the boy's parents. One pail half-filled with blood rested on the ground, while another lay upturned at the end of a large crimson puddle. The faces of both victims were fixed in expressions of horror. Whatever had happened to them, they'd had time to see it coming and been helpless to stop it. The boy's death had been an act of outrageous carnage, but this...this was slow, calculated, deliberate murder, and it brought Sayaka's thoughts back again to that late night train ride while, in the present, the motes of darkness gathering in her soul gem picked up speed as they swirled together and grew larger.

 _"You give 'em an inch and they're all over you, whining to get married and shit. You just can't let up on them. I'm like, 'You think a shit-for-brains hostess like you will still be around in 10 years? That hoe body ain't gonna last forever, y'know!"_

 _"God, they're so annoying when it comes time to dump them."_

 _"You are really good at dumpin' hoes, though, Sho. I envy you! Dude, I gotta learn from you."_

This time, a distraction readily provided itself to snap the puella magi out of her dark recollections. A sinuous, slithering sound from the main hallway seized her attention, and she turned around just in time to see a monster straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare pass by and stop in front of the open doorframe. The creature consisted of a single maw filled with sharp, hideous teeth and the large mass of writhing tentacles rimmed with serrated, bony protrusions that surrounded it. Whatever the beast was, it was abominable, alien, and ancient...and it didn't stand a chance.

Sayaka's lips shifted upwards into a cold half-smile that unsettlingly matched the black mood of her environment. Sparing no time for dramatic words or flourishes, she charged at the monster with superhuman speed as a cutlass magically appeared in hands raised above her head. Her otherworldly opponent wriggled and reached out for her with its tentacles, but it was already too late. The puella magi sidestepped the alien appendages without slowing down in the slightest and brought her sword down in a vicious overhead slash that sliced the creature clean through.

 _"Hey, tell me more about her."_

 _..._

 _"That woman you were talking about just now. Tell me more about her."_

 _..._

 _"That woman...she probably loves you and tries hard to make you happy. I bet you know that too, don't you? And yet you call her a dog? Have you never told her, 'thank you?' Are you really going to dump her once she stops being useful?"_

Crimson ichor spurted forth from the bisected horror, but Sayaka remained unfazed. Instead, she watched as the ruined maw and tentacles fell to the ground and then bubbled hideously as the flesh surrounding the wound regenerated on both halves. Her icy smile grew more twisted at the sight, and she reached out with one hand to summon another cutlass. The monster would pay for this atrocity!

 _"Hey...is this world even worth protecting? What have I been fighting for all this time? Tell me. You, right now. Tell me. Or else, I'll..."_

Berserker brought her swords down again to slice through the regenerating beast...and then brought them down again, and again, and again. Her cutlasses were a frenzied dervish of blue steel, rising and falling more rapidly than a heartbeat. She ignored the monster's inarticulate wails of rage and agony, slashing the creature into smaller and smaller smatterings of flesh until the remnants were too damaged to heal and she was stained in its red blood.

 _Two men cowered in terror in their seats as the blue-haired girl who'd confronted them grinned a crazed, merciless smile. Darkness wreathed her body, and instead of human eyes two orbs filled with spinning, skittering musical motifs looked down at them in judgment. The pair were frozen in horror, unable to understand what was happening and unsure what to do, and before they could make a decision let alone run for it a sword appeared as if by magic in the girl's hands. She laughed dementedly, a haunted, hopeless sound, and then she struck—_

Sayaka finally stopped her attack when the gutted pieces of flesh stopped writhing. Slowly, hanging onto life for as long as they could, they disintegrated into a bloody mist that rose into the air and vanished. Only then did she dismiss her summoned weapons, stand up straight, and take several deep, haggard breaths as her soul gem's blue glow restored itself and eliminated the black specks. A moment later she was brought back fully into the present by the sound of her master's worried voice filling her head.

 _Miki, what's happening?_ , Matou Kariya asked through their telepathic link, a wheezing quality to his telepathic words as if he were under physical strain. _Your magic intake suddenly jumped! Have you been attacked?_

The aspiring ally of justice sighed and shook her head as she took another long look around the room and offered a silent prayer for the murdered parents and child. What had happened here was horrible, an atrocity only a true monster could commit...and a crime she was guilty of herself, many times over. Those two men on the train had only been her last victims; there had been others, in other time loops, who had the similar misfortune to encounter her on the cusp of surrendering to despair and her witch transformation. She couldn't lose control of herself like that ever again, at any cost!

 _I'm fine, Matou_ , she reassured him, forcing herself to focus on the here and now rather than her uncomfortably recent past. _But we have a problem. I found a...I don't know what to call it other than a demon, and I fear that whoever summoned it is still alive...and somewhere in Fuyuki._


	4. Ch3 – King Arthur's a Magical Girl too?

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Three – King Arthur is a Magical Girl too? Cool.

Assassin knew he'd walked into a trap long before the spear shot down from the sky and painfully nailed his left hand to the pedestal of the stone monument he'd been reaching for in the Tohsaka estate's garden. The command to slay Tokiomi a mere two nights after the last servant had been summoned and his master's words of assurance had both been suspicious, and Assassin was no fool. He was, however, supremely confident in his abilities, and he had assumed that he could easily infiltrate the mansion and skillfully extricate himself from whatever Kirei and Tokiomi had planned without tipping his true hand to the colluding masters.

"You're nothing but a worm. Who gave you permission to come here?"

 _So much for that_ , Assassin thought wryly as, with a grunt of agony, he looked up to behold his executioner. There, standing proudly atop the mansion's rooftop, was the golden-haired Archer in his magnificent auric armor with over a dozen circular portals glowing behind him. The end of a legendary weapon protruded from the center of each disc, primed and ready to be fired at their owner's command which, with an imperious scowl on his unblemished face, Archer promptly issued.

 _ **Swoosh-Swoosh-Swoosh! Zing-Zing-Zing! Bwoom-Bwoom-Bwoom!**_

Assassin thought it distinctly _unfair_ how even the legendary-weapons-turned-missiles that missed him caused the ground to erupt in shrapnel from the sheer force of impact, and he silently cursed as the debris further pummeled his wound-riddled body. The shadow-black servant's situation deteriorated further a moment later as, even before he landed, he saw the blade that would kill him come careening down from above.

 _No need...to fear that, he says..._

The blade struck true and tore Assassin's white skull mask from his face. Mask and body both crashed into the ground seconds later, landing in the pockmarked crater formed by the power of Archer's barrage. The golden servant gazed down at his defeated opponent contemptuously.

"You are not worthy to look upon me. A worm should be facing the ground when it dies."

Surprisingly, Assassin's last thoughts were not bitter. He was well aware that those willing to employ the skills of a hired killer were also frequently the type for whom treachery came easily. He also knew that in his day fear of retribution from his fellow Hashshashin had kept betrayals to a minimum, and while much had changed in this modern age the brotherhood of assassins had not.

 _Beware...the shadows, master. We are...everywhere, and we...never forget._

The eyes of four familiars spying for different masters watched as Assassin's broken form dispersed into a cloud of black smoke and vanished from the world. These were his final moments, and the silent observers would all report on the death of the Servant of the Shadows. A fifth pair of eyes, however, remained unseen by all and watched the watchers from behind a skull mask identical to the one worn by the deceased servant. And unlike the other observers, this watcher knew that reports of Assassin's death were greatly exaggerated.

 _And thus the war begins with an act of treachery and deception. How very auspicious for us!_ , the second of the eighty assassins who currently comprised the legendary Old Man of the Mountain thought gleefully as he smiled crookedly beneath his alabaster mask. Archer could shine as gloriously as he wanted in the darkness. Tokiomi and Kirei could plot as much as they desired in the night. They all fought and struggled in _his_ element, and Assassin was the only true master of the shadows.

 _And when I choose the time to strike, no one will see me coming._

* * *

Kariya terminated the visual link to his winged insect familiar and cursed from where he stood leaning against a brick wall in one of Fuyuki's busier nighttime entertainment districts. The nearly half a dozen people nearby—mostly pub crawlers and young couples—gave him a wide berth but otherwise pretended he wasn't there. He'd drawn his hood far over his face, and so long as he didn't step under the artificial light of a street lamp he could pass as disheveled rather than diseased.

 _You damn lucky bastard_ , the Matou master thought unhappily as he scowled at Tokiomi's good fortune. Not only did the fire magus have an extremely powerful servant if the recent battle was any indication, but the defenses around his mansion were so secure not even Assassin could sneak in undetected. That boded poorly for any attempts he and Berserker might make later on, and now he was also one servant shorter of potential allies.

 _Damn it, is a_ _ **single**_ _sign of weakness on Tokiomi's part too much to ask for? The way things look now, he can win simply by staying inside his mansion and waiting for the rest of us to kill each other off before sending out his servant to slaughter the last ones standing. Damn damn da-Gnh!_

Kariya gritted his teeth as the crest worms buried in his flesh writhed in response to his anger. His overall health had improved slightly thanks to his servant's magic, but he was still on the same fatal downhill slide and Zouken's accursed parasites were becoming even more insatiable now that he was channeling a constant stream of magical energy to Berserker. It didn't take much to agitate them, and his waking thoughts were regularly interrupted by painful jolts and other unpleasant reminders of his impending mortality.

 _Gotta keep it together, though, for Sakura's sake. Just for one or two more weeks...maybe three...and then I can rest._

Focusing on Sakura helped, and for good measure Kariya reminded himself that, as much as he wanted Tokiomi dead, he didn't _actually_ want him dead because Aoi loved the insufferable fool and his death would make her sad. That wasn't particularly pleasant to think about either, but Kariya gradually calmed and he directed his thoughts back to recent developments and what his next steps should be. Notifying his servant of the news was the obvious first action, and if the other masters had also watched the same battle perhaps they might be more willing to unite against Tokiomi now? That was something to consider, at least.

 _Assassin is dead_ , Kariya communicated telepathically to Berserker who was busy patrolling the city. Ostensibly, she was searching for the hideouts of the remaining three—now two—servants, but Kariya knew she was more focused on finding the demon summoner. Reports of missing children had begun to circulate throughout Fuyuki in the two days since Berserker's discovery, and although there was no evidence linking the disappearances to a renegade magus his servant feared the worst. Based on the glimpses of the grisly scene she'd shown him through her eyes Kariya couldn't blame her, and he'd done what he could to help her search by reporting the incident to the war's overseer and staying in public places where he was safer without her nearby despite how much he disliked being treated like a pariah. Risei had agreed to look into the matter and commented that Caster being summoned on the same night might be more than a coincidence, but there was little the priest could do until something more concrete appeared. And now that the war had finally properly begun...well, everyone's priorities were about to change.

 _How? And where?_ , Berserker asked a moment later. _I haven't sensed anything near me._

 _It happened on the other side of Fuyuki, in the foreigner's district. Tohsaka's servant got him._

He filled her in on the details he'd seen and described Tohsaka's servant—presumably Archer—as best he could. Oddly, Berserker sounded amused when he mentioned the enemy servant's power to summon and shoot multiple weapons.

 _A golden hero conjuring weapons from thin air and firing them all simultaneously? Nothing I haven't seen before. Heck, even I can do something similar, though I'm limited to my own cutlasses. That shouldn't be anything my speed and regeneration can't overcome if that's all Archer's got, but I'll still be careful. It's super stupid to underestimate an opponent I haven't even fought yet._

 _Be sure you don't_ , Kariya warned. _Archer eliminated Assassin effortlessly, and although Assassin may be the weakest of the servants that's still a disturbing feat. Not taking Archer seriously could be deadly._

 _Yeah yeah, I hear you loud and clear, Matou. You can count on me!_

There was a contemplative pause on Berserker's end before she spoke again.

 _Speaking of Assassin..._ , she began slowly, _are you certain he's dead? Speaking as a resurrected ghost, I can confidently say that not everyone dies when they are killed and, well, I'm having a hard time believing that any heroic spirit would go down so easily._

 _Trust me on this_ , Kariya insisted with a slight hint of irritation at having to repeat himself. _I may only be a third-rate magus, but there's no mistaking the death of a servant. You can't fake the destruction of a spiritual core like that. The Assassin I saw is beyond a doubt dead._

 _Then I'll take your word on it if you're so sure. It's one less thing for me to worry about_ , the servant replied placatingly before a stubborn note entered her mental voice.

 _On another topic, I know where you're going with this conversation, but I insist on being allowed to continue hunting for the mastermind behind these kidnappings. Demon summoner or not, I can't stand by while children are vanishing._

Kariya frowned but did not argue. He didn't like Berserker's recalcitrant tone, but he knew he wouldn't win this argument without using a command seal and it wasn't an argument he wanted to win anyway. Even if the disappearances had nothing to do with magic or the Grail War, the thought of children being abducted sickened him, and if there was something he could do to help bring an end to this crime he'd do it. Sakura would always be his first priority, though. Otherwise all of this was pointless.

 _That's fine_ , he concurred as he attempted to project a sense of firmness into his voice. _I was going to have you keep an eye out for the kidnapper anyway in case he's linked to Caster, and I want to see whoever's behind this brought to justice too. However, the Grail War must take precedence. More battles will follow now that the first servant has fallen, and if we don't go after the other servants and masters they'll come after us instead._ Remembering his servant's age, he softened his tone and added another word to his orders.

 _Please?_

Berserker sighed. _Fine, fine, but only because you asked nicely, Matou...And truth be told, I'm not having much luck with my search anyway, so maybe a change of focus will help on both ends. And who knows? Meeting the other servants could be fun!_

* * *

 **The next night.**

"I am Iskandar, the King of Conquerors! In this battle for the Holy Grail, I am of the Rider class of servants!"

Sayaka watched wide-eyed as the red-haired giant of a man rode a lightning-infused war chariot down from the sky and in between the dueling Lancer and Saber. Her eyes widened further when the crimson-caped servant announced himself.

 _ **That's**_ _Alexander the Great? He's the same servant I sensed the other day in the park! There's no mistaking that aura._

Not for the first time that night, the azure puella magi shivered anxiously. She'd arrived at the west bank docks shortly after Lancer and Saber's battle began and had hidden herself behind a stack of crates in a narrow alley between two warehouses, and what she'd seen of the two knight-class servants had amazed her. The skill both had displayed was incredible, but even _more_ than that was the sheer sense of presence both projected. Saber, a regal blonde woman in a blue dress overlaid with silver armor, practically glowed with inner purpose, majesty, and strength. Heroic spirit or not, this woman would be the center of any crowd and could command obedience through innate charisma and force of personality alone—simply being near her made Sayaka feel inadequate in comparison.

Lancer, meanwhile, incited a very different and far more embarrassing emotion within her, and the puella magi had needed to forcibly restrain herself from rushing out of her hiding spot and throwing herself adoringly at him the first time she'd glimpsed his resolute yet grief-tainted orange eyes. The black-haired servant was certainly handsome, wearing a sleeveless dark teal outfit that hugged his lean, muscled body as he confidently dual-wielded a long crimson spear and a shorter yellow spear, but he wasn't nearly good-looking enough to provoke such a juvenile reaction from her! She'd only caught on that enchantment was involved when she'd seen her soul gem brighten as it cleansed the infatuation from her mind. Mental clarity soon returned, and, while Sayaka found herself admiring Lancer's physique a bit more than was strictly necessary, she was no longer under his spell. Instead, she found herself admiring his prowess and how, even against a peerless opponent of Saber's caliber, he was able to assess and master the battlefield.

The three servants before her were—simply put—superhuman, even by her standards, and while Sayaka did not doubt she could match them in strength and speed she worried she could not do the same in skill and power. And that did not bode well for her and her master's chances in this war...

 _Madoka wasn't kidding when she said this wouldn't be easy. Still, I can't give up with both Matou and Sakura counting on me, and it's not as though my chances are completely hopeless. Lancer inflicted a serious injury to Saber's left hand, and so long as that wound remains cursed Saber can't possibly fight at full strength. No matter who she is, she's at a serious disadvan—_

"And further, I am the rightful King of Britain and not merely a knight of the realm. I could never lower myself to mere retainer, even to a mighty king."

"Oh, you are King of Britain! That is quite a surprise! I would hardly have expected the King of Knights to be a little girl."

Sayaka's thoughts ground to a halt as her mind caught up with Rider's effort to recruit Lancer and Saber into his army and pieced together the latter's identity.

 _King Arthur is a_ _ **girl**_ _? B-b-but that doesn't make any sense! She had a son with her half-sister, didn't she? And wasn't she married to Guinevere? Argh! This is either Rule 63's revenge or King Arthur is actually a puella magi who made one very bizarre wish!_

Sayaka's imagination briefly pictured the swordswoman in front of her as a magical girl, conjuring an image of the blonde knight in a lacy dress and white armor with a large black bow in her hair before she dispelled the ridiculous visualization. Whatever the circumstances were, apparently the stories she'd read as a child had gotten something as simple as King Arthur's gender wrong, and she would have to deal with the reality.

"So you were the one, eh? I'd wondered what madness had compelled you to steal my relic. I never imagined that you yourself planned to enter the Holy Grail War...Waver Velvet."

Sayaka frowned as a new voice—disembodied and seemingly coming from no single direction—chimed in. The tone reeked of arrogance with an undercurrent of cruelty, and the effect it had on the young man standing beside Rider in his war chariot was immediate. The black-haired youth who had previously appeared angry and exasperated at his servant's antics now cowered in fear with a rapidly blossoming look of unadulterated panic on his face as the condescending voice continued to berate and threaten him...at least until Rider stepped in. Placing a reassuring hand on his master's back, the burly servant turned to address the unseen speaker.

"Mage! So you were to be my master, rather than the boy. Absurd...Only one brave enough to ride the battlefield at my side could ever by my master. A coward, lacking sufficient courage to show himself, is not nearly close to being worthy! Gwhahahaha! And there are others, as well...skulking in the darkness!"

 _Huh, so much for remaining hidden..._

As the Servant of Madness debated whether to show herself, her master mentally chimed in with his thoughts on the matter.

 _Be careful, Berserker_ , Kariya warned telepathically from his own hiding spot farther away as he watched events through her eyes. _Our goal tonight is merely to learn more about the other servants and masters. You don't need to reveal yourself, and with those three already out there there's no telling what'll happen._

 _Heh, I appreciate the concern for my well-being, Matou, but if Rider interfered to stop Saber—possibly the strongest class, from what you've told me—from being eliminated, I don't think any of us have anything to fear so long as we don't offend him. And as an ally of justice, it would be super rude of me not to show myself after being asked._

As if he'd sensed her thoughts, Rider raised his hands theatrically and looked up at the sky.

"Heroic Spirits, born again through the Holy Grail, gather here and now!" he shouted in his booming voice. "Those too craven to show themselves will draw the scorn of Iskandar, King of Conquerors!"

 _And that would be my cue_ , Sayaka thought. She wasn't the only one.

In a descending swirl of golden lights, an armored man of medium height materialized and alighted upon a lamppost that overlooked the gathering of servants. He scowled haughtily as he looked down at the assembled with proud red eyes, and although she was still hidden by the shadows and not included in his imperious, dismissive gaze Sayaka froze at the sight of him. His mere presence triggered virtually every magical sense she had, and where Saber was a radiant light and Rider a charged storm this servant—Archer, she identified, matching his appearance with Matou's description—felt like an overpowering tsunami on par with Walpurgisnacht's calamity. His aura was one of total confidence and possession, of _entitlement_ , as though the entire world rightfully belonged to him and anything that didn't submit to his whims and will would be swept away.

"So, two lesser beings dare to name themselves kings, even in my presence."

The golden servant spoke, his words rich with authority and filled with contempt as his voice—perfectly suited for addressing large crowds even when he spoke quietly—carried far.

"I cannot see where any problem lies," Rider responded calmly as he looked up at the new arrival, but the earlier good cheer had left his voice. "I am Iskandar, the legendary King of Conquerors known to all the lands in the world."

Archer's scowl deepened.

"What nonsense," he retorted disdainfully. "You are deluding yourself. I am the one true king of the world. All others are mongrels, pretenders to the name."

The red-haired giant appeared unfazed at Archer's tone as those around him tensed, preparing for a fight.

"If you're that insistent of your claim, then why not name yourself? No true king should be troubled by something as simple as giving his name to those he wishes to challenge."

A flash of cold anger crossed Archer's face, and he slammed a foot down hard on the lamp post beneath him, cracking the glass.

"So, you would question _me_ , pretender? Me, the one true king? If even in the presence of my magnificent glory you cannot discern my identity, then your ignorant blindness will seal your doom!"

Two golden portals appeared above Archer's head, and the end of a legendary weapon poked out of each, ready to be aimed and launched at their master's command.

 _Whoa, what a jerk_ , Sayaka thought with a grimace, battling her own instincts which were screaming at her to run and get as far away from Archer as possible. She didn't want to catch his notice...but if she didn't step out now this whole mess would deteriorate into a battle and possibly eliminate one if not more servants who might be willing to work together with her. And after what she'd seen tonight, she couldn't deny any longer that she would need help to win.

 _Okay, Sayaka. Time to play peacemaker...and since you're going out anyway, you might as well make your grand entrance super impressive!_

* * *

Maiya was not having a good night. Although safely hidden on the nearby rooftop of a warehouse, the dark-haired woman knew she was effectively at ground zero should a free-for-all break out between the four servants assembled below her. Factor in the not-dead Assassin watching events from the crane overhead and the whole scenario was a disastrous recipe for chaos, and Maiya did not like chaos. She acted with precision and efficiency, seeking the maximum effect with minimum effort, and being unable to predict the battlefield interfered with her preferred modus operandi.

Saber's poor performance also exacerbated matters. The swordswoman had held back during her duel with Lancer to maintain the secret of her identity and received a crippling wound for her efforts, and then she'd gone and revealed her name to the world at large anyway. The only upshots to Saber's debacle of a first battle were the identities of the other servants who had named themselves and the opportunity she and Kiritsugu now had to eliminate two of the war's masters, but with the situation below as tense as it was neither she nor her partner dared take the first shot and ignite the powder keg.

 _What a mess_ , she thought privately as she kept her sniper rifle trained on the potential targets below and observed the battlefield through its telescopic sight. Her brown eyes narrowed a few seconds later as Archer threw what could ungraciously be called a tantrum, and she centered her aim on Waver Velvet. If Archer's attack distracted Rider she might have a clear shot—

A brilliant burst of blue light interrupted the mercenary's calculations, and she shifted her attention to take in the new development. Three concentric azure circles, each comprised of five lines interspersed with cryptic runic symbols, had materialized on the ground to the far side of Archer and spun rapidly around each other. The solemn notes of a ghostly violin solo emerged from the arcane emblem, with the music swelling to a crescendo as a wave of pellucid water gushed up and crashed down from the outermost circle, rising to a second crescendo as another wave of water similarly rose and fell from the middle circle, and reaching a third and final crescendo as the innermost circle erupted in a thick column of water. The glowing figure of a girl rose up from within the liquid pillar and took on definite form as the water plunged back to its source. Blue hair, blue eyes, Asian skin and features, blue and white cloth armor—

"That's the same servant who was in the Mount Miyami shopping district three days ago," Maiya informed her partner in a whisper, speaking through her earbud headset. Kiritsugu was too professional to curse out loud, but she knew him well enough to read his increasing frustration into the silence on his end. Frustration, and an unprofessional concern for his wife that he wouldn't have entertained ten years ago, but Irisviel had changed him more than Kiritsugu liked to admit.

Releasing a muted sigh, Maiya focused her attention on the new arrival as the seemingly young girl reached for her chest and pulled out a blue shaft of light that coalesced into a cutlass. The enemy servant then brandished the weapon with a theatrical flourish before stabbing it into the pavement beneath her, the spell circles continuing to pulse as she bowed politely, smiled broadly, and rose to address her fellow servants.

"Unlike a certain Archer who apparently has too little pride in his own name to share it, I am Miki Sayaka, ally of justice, defender of the city, and, for a limited time only, Berserker of the Fourth Holy Grail War! I'm pleased to meet all of you!"

 _She's Berserker?_ , Maiya thought incredulously as she saw her reaction mirrored on the faces of Saber, Lancer, Irisviel, and Waver. In contrast, Rider looked amused at the introduction, his lips curling upward in a jovial grin, and Archer...Maiya couldn't read the expression on his face, but he did not appear pleased.

"A child," the golden servant muttered scornfully as his crimson eyes narrowed in anger. "A child with no manners, two pretenders too blind to recognize their better, and a filthy mongrel." He stamped his foot again, this time with enough force that the lamppost beneath him bent under the blow. "The Grail has _insulted_ me by summoning ignorant plebeians to be my competition and attaching my name to this _farcical_ war."

Archer waved a hand dismissively and the two glowing portals behind him disappeared along with the sword and spear that had been poking out of them.

"Thin your ranks before we meet again," he commanded contemptuously as his body dissolved back into golden lights. "I doubt any of you will prove yourselves _worthy_ of facing me, but the less I'm reminded of how disappointing you are the more merciful I'll be when deciding your fates."

Maiya felt some of the tension leave her at Archer's departure, but she did not relax and kept her attention centered on the gathering below. One less servant didn't make this situation any less a recipe for disaster, and Saber was still wounded and vastly outnumbered. With all the players willing to show themselves now flushed out, though, it might be better if she and Kiritsugu took the risk and attacked Archibald—

"Maiya, I'm going to take the shot," Kiritsugu's hardened voice rang in her right ear, echoing her own thoughts. "Remain vigilant, but do not reveal your presence unless it becomes necessary to protect Irisviel."

"Affirmative," she replied, adjusting her position on the rooftop and readying a few smoke grenades. It was next to impossible to harm a servant with mundane weapons, but their senses could still be tricked, and with Saber protecting Irisviel the white-haired woman would only need a second or two to escape. Maiya could give them that much even if it meant putting her own life at risk, because those were her orders and she would carry them out. Just like she always did, and she—no, it didn't matter.

From her viewpoint, Maiya tracked her targets with emotionless eyes and waited.

* * *

Sayaka's left eye twitched in annoyance. She wasn't upset that Archer had left— _the jerk!_ —but she did not appreciate being treated as so beneath his notice that he took her mere presence as an insult. She was already feeling inferior sharing the same space as King Arthur and Alexander the Great, and Archer's dismissal didn't help her self-esteem at all.

"What a disagreeable fellow," Rider remarked disappointedly, seemingly sharing Sayaka's irritation. "To so quickly disparage those he just met...Archer is either incredibly foolish or incredibly perceptive, or perhaps both. Still, that's something for a future meeting to decide, and there are more important matters to attend to at the moment."

Sayaka tensed as Rider's heterochromatic eyes turned to her, and she instinctively reached for the cutlass she'd planted in the ground. The weapon wasn't necessary, though, for where Archer had been disdainful Rider was appreciative and appraising, and he further surprised her a moment later by giving her a thumbs up.

"Splendid entrance, Berserker! And congratulations on routing Archer, even if that was not your intention. The first victory of the Fourth Grail War's second battle is yours!" the red-haired king proclaimed without mockery. "A warrior of your caliber would be heartily welcomed in my army, so what say you? Will you yield the Grail to me, join me as a treasured comrade, and share in the joys of world conquest?"

At this, Lancer chuckled and shook his head disbelievingly from where he stood a few yards to the side and slightly ahead of Rider. Saber stood silently several yards across from him on Rider's other side and had assumed a defensive stance in front of the white-haired woman who appeared to be her master. Waver, still in Rider's chariot, wore the shell-shocked look of someone who had resigned himself to the world not making sense and decided he was so far in over his head that it didn't matter anymore.

"Truly, Rider, you do not know when to quit," the Irish knight spoke, sounding both amused and impressed. "To be rebuffed thrice yet continue to make your offer." Lancer shrugged and smiled slightly. "I do not presume to speak for Berserker, but if she's truly an ally of justice then her answer should already be obvious to you."

Rider guffawed loudly, amused by the rebuke and its implied insult. "True, true, but it doesn't hurt to ask. And if nothing else, it will establish where we all stand next to each other. So, your answer, Berserker?"

"Pass," Sayaka announced, moving closer so that she faced Rider and was roughly equidistant from both Lancer and Saber, forming a diamond shape between them. She held up her left hand in a conciliatory gesture.

"Don't get me wrong, Rider. I'm super flattered by the offer—" And she definitely was. After Archer's insulting dismissal, it felt good to know that at least one of her fellow servants seemed to hold some respect for her. "—but I can't. I promised to fight for the Grail for the sake of my master's wish, and, while my own wish is something I'd be willing to yield, I cannot and will not forsake his. It is far too important."

"How lamentable," Rider said regretfully with a shake of his head before the earnest smile returned a moment later. "But I'm glad to hear you have something you deem truly valuable to fight for. Dedicate yourself to your cause with all your heart and soul, and there will be no shame in your battles regardless of whether you win or lose. And speaking of battles, I do believe that Saber and Lancer—"

 _ **Zing!**_

The whoosh of a bullet traveling through the night air and the subsequent dull thud as it collided with something hard and impenetrable were heard clearly by all the servants, and Sayaka instinctively turned her head to look up at the source of the noise with her servant-augmented eyes. There was a mirage-like shimmering above the warehouse where the bullet—now lying bent and useless on the rooftop—had struck, and then the translucent ripples faded and were replaced by a sheet of what looked like liquid metal facing the direction the attack had come from. Behind the gray wall was a tall, middle-aged man with angular features, a receding blonde hairline, and an irate expression on his face.

"Using a _gun_ to attack a Lord of the Mage's Association? Disgraceful!" the man boomed, sounding both disgusted and incredulous as magic carried his words throughout the wharf. Sayaka recognized his voice as the voice of Lancer's hitherto invisible master, and he glared down at them all balefully before his gaze fixated on the white-haired woman standing behind Saber.

"Einzbern, I can only lament how far your once illustrious family has fallen," he spoke, traces of genuine pity in his words. "I had heard the rumor that you'd hired the prideless Magus Killer as your private hound for this war, but I didn't want to believe Jubstacheit would do something so shameful. It appears the respect I held for your bloodline was misplaced."

The man's green eyes briefly turned to the where the bullet had come from as he muttered a short incantation, and a gust of wind formed in front of his silver barrier and retraced the path of the projectile. Whoever had fired upon him was long gone, though, and the breeze dissipated into empty space at the end of its journey. The man sighed unhappily at the result and folded his hands behind his blue overcoat before he looked down at the white-haired woman again.

"You do not deny it. Then be warned, Einzbern. For us, this is no longer a battle between magi. You no longer deserve that honor. Instead, it is an _extermination_ , and when we meet next you will pay the full price for your appalling conduct. You, and the honorless assassin you employ."

The male magus gestured with his right hand and chanted a verse quietly to himself. The air around him and his metallic guardian shimmered again, and then he was gone. Lancer, with some reluctance, followed suit, staying only long enough to bow politely in farewell and pierce Saber with a glance that promised things weren't over between them. Then he, too, disappeared, and Sayaka was left alone with Rider, Saber, and their masters. To her, neither servant looked eager for a fight, but there was tension in the air and she felt her hands reach for her cutlass again. If Saber or the assassin tried anything funny—

"I must apologize for the conduct of my master," Saber spoke at last, surprising Sayaka by lowering her weapon, an invisible sword surrounded by a sheath of wind. "I knew him to be a man of mercenary means but had assumed he would exercise proper decorum during these engagements. It appears I misjudged him."

"Saber, wait," the white-haired and red-eyed woman behind her spoke, raising a hand in protest. "You shouldn't—"

"Irisviel, your safety is my highest priority," the blonde knight said tersely, clearly upset but just as clearly not at the woman she was protecting. "Emiya endangered your life by violating the rules of honorable combat, and if revealing his secret will help safeguard you then I will gladly do so."

"Then your true master is—" Rider began meaningfully as Sayaka's own eyes widened in understanding.

"—not the woman behind me," Saber finished, nodding her head. "Lancer's master was only partially correct. The Einzbern did hire Emiya Kiritsugu the Magus Killer to fight for them in the Fourth Grail War, but they are employing him as both an _assassin_ —" The knight's lips twisted unhappily at the word. "—and as my master." Her grimace became even deeper at that acknowledgement, but the blonde king quickly collected herself and continued speaking.

"Attacking Irisviel will do nothing to further your causes and will make me a sworn enemy," she vowed, green eyes intent as she stared down Rider and Berserker. "I have vowed to protect her with my life and will not break my oath."

Sayaka tensed again as Saber's gaze lingered specifically on her for a long moment before moving on to Rider.

"King of Conquerors, I acknowledge that I am in no position to make requests after my master's disreputable conduct, but, as recompense for your own interruption of my duel with Lancer, I ask that you allow the woman and me to excuse ourselves from the battlefield. There is nothing more to be gained honorably here."

The red-haired servant laughed good-naturedly at the entreaty. "Consider it done, King of Knights. I don't want our first meeting to be our last, so I guarantee you safe passage. I'm confident Berserker is of the same mind on the matter too, eh?"

It took Sayaka a second to realize she'd been invited back into the conversation, and she raised her right hand to the back of her head nervously. Being in the presence of two legendary kings was truly something else.

"Um, yeah, sure," she said, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence. "I mean, it would be super cheap of me to attack you before you've had a chance to recover from your earlier duel, and attacking...Irisviel, right?...is downright out of the question. This is a war between servants and masters, and I won't raise my blade to third parties unless they give me reason to first."

Saber nodded her head appreciatively, and Irisviel quietly released a breath she'd been holding. Beside Rider, though, Waver Velvet looked incredulous.

"Are you two out of your minds?! With Saber weakened, this is possibly our best opportunity to eliminate one of the strongest servants in the—"

Without looking in his master's direction, Rider brought two fingers to the Englishman's forehead as if to flick him. Waver immediately shut up and clutched his head fearfully.

"Forgive the boy's poor manners, Saber, Berserker, Miss Irisviel. He's young and still has much to learn about the importance of magnanimity in battle." The red-haired giant gestured expansively at both of them, smiled broadly, and then clutched the reins of his chariot.

"Saber, Berserker, it has been a pleasure meeting both of you tonight. I hope you will reconsider my offer and agree to join my army, but that is a decision for another time. Until then, live your new lives to the utmost and revel in the glories to come! Hiyah!"

Sayaka and Saber both took a step back as the wheels of Rider's chariot and the hoofs of the bulls that pulled it became infused with lightning and he took to the sky with his master clutching onto the chariot's railing for dear life. The two servants then turned to each other, and Saber nodded her head gratefully.

"I won't forget your chivalry, Berserker. Should we ever cross blades, I promise you a battle on honorable terms."

"Heheh, right back at you. One reaps what one sows, and I'd be a totally lame hero if I cheated in a battle against the legendary King Arthur. Until we meet again, King of Knights!" Sayaka replied as she watched Saber and her charge back away. A minute later she was standing alone in the center of the docks, and then she turned incorporeal and faded out of sight.

 _Did you get all that, Matou?_ , she asked as she returned to her master's hiding spot.

 _Yes,_ Kariya answered quickly but with a note of begrudging reluctance in his mental voice, as if he were unhappy with what he was about to say.

 _And I have a plan._

* * *

Emiya Kiritsugu frowned as he walked down the street through the crowd of people evacuated from the Hyatt Hotel. He was a Japanese man of medium height and a lean build with shaggy black hair clothed in a casual black suit and matching dark trench coat. He could have easily passed as a typical Japanese salaryman were it not for his nearly lifeless black eyes, empty of every emotion except for an unsettling, despair-fueled determination. He was, it was clear to anyone who saw those eyes, a man on a mission, and tonight that mission was assassinating Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald.

The Magus Killer sighed unhappily as he continued along his way and saw the worried faces of men, women, and children all around him. Each and every one of them was an accusatory reminder of his own weakness. Lancer needed to be eliminated to remove Saber's handicap, and the surest way of doing that was to end Archibald's life. He'd tried and failed a little over an hour ago with a sniper rifle, so now he was using C-4 explosives planted in the basement of the hotel his target was staying at. There was no magic barrier that could save a man from a collapsing building and a 150 meter fall, but Archibald was not a mage Kiritsugu could afford to underestimate and the Association lord might well have other defenses that could keep him alive. Consequently, the pragmatic thing to do would have been to detonate the explosives without warning, taking Archibald completely by surprise and sacrificing the hundreds inside the hotel for the greater good of winning the Grail War. That was what his cold logic and bitter experience told him, and his inability to follow through on it now seemed to him a terrible affront to the many other times he had made the painful choice of sacrificing the few for the many.

 _I've grown soft. Natalia wouldn't approve at all_ , he thought acidly. Every time he'd considered detonating the explosives with innocents still inside he'd pictured his wife and young daughter among the mothers and children who'd be his victims, and that had stayed his hand and caused him to trigger the fire alarms instead. Now the hotel's tenants were safe outside and Archibald had had time to prepare. It was stupid and diminished his chances for success, and this hesitation could easily get him killed if he didn't excise it from himself soon. He had seen enough wars to know how little mercy on the battlefield counted.

"Lord Archibald!"

At the sound of his target's name, Kiritsugu fixed his face into a neutral expression and approached the hotel employee who was crossing off the names of guests on a list.

"Lord Kayneth Archibald! Are you present?" the employee repeated again, scanning the crowd for the foreigner's face. Kiritsugu stepped into the man's view and activated his magic circuits.

"That's me. Don't worry," he assured the employee in a level voice. The younger man looked at him dubiously for a long moment, but then his eyes assumed a semi-vacant look and the Magus Killer knew that his hypnotism had taken hold. "Both Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald and his fiancée, Sola-Ui, have evacuated."

The hotel employee nodded his head mechanically and crossed Archibald's name off the list. "I see. Yes, that's fine."

Kiritsugu watched him go and confer with a slightly older man, presumably a manager. He used magic to briefly eavesdrop on the conversation but stopped when he heard what he wanted to know. Everyone was accounted for, and it was therefore time for him to spring his trap. With feigned nonchalance, he walked over to a parking lot, leaned against a car, and took out his cell-phone. All he needed to do now was send the signal to detonate the explosives and—

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as his mystic senses flared in warning at the rapid approach of a heavy, otherworldly aura that could only belong to a servant. For a brief second Kiritsugu considered going ahead with detonating the bombs, but he dismissed the idea in the very next second. If he did and the approaching servant was Lancer he'd be dead in under a minute, murdered by an avenging Diarmuid Ua Duibhne before Gaia purged the heroic spirit from the world. The threat of explosives could be used as a bargaining chip instead. And then in the third second the servant emerged from the nearby crowd and approached him, a young blue-haired girl in a tan school uniform that was completely at odds with her true nature and the power she wielded.

"You know, if you're going to pretend to be someone else you should at least _try_ to look the part," Berserker spoke in a distinctly unimpressed tone of voice. "Dye your hair blond or something. As is, I'm not buying for an instant that you're a European noble. In fact, judging by the command seals on your right hand, I would say that you are...Emiya Kiritsugu?"

Kiritsugu neither confirmed nor denied the allegation. Instead, he gazed down at the enemy servant and assessed her with a disinterested look as his mind raced with the implications of her presence here. "You are Miki Sayaka and Berserker, the Grail War's Servant of Madness, with Matou Kariya as your master."

The last assertion was speculation on Kiritsugu's part, but the astonished look that crossed Berserker's face confirmed it for him.

"How did you—no, never mind," the servant muttered, shaking her head slightly. "What matters is that my master sent me here to speak to Lancer and his master, and you are clearly up to something that'll interfere with that. I'm guessing you set off the alarms so that all these people wouldn't be caught in the crossfire, but if you're here to eliminate Lancer's master why are you outside with everyone else rather than inside with him? That doesn't make sense, not unless—"

Berserker's blue eyes widened in realization, and her gaze hardened.

"You," she accused, the single word laced with anger and incredulity. "You were going to destroy the entire building, killing any hotel staff and rescue workers still inside doing their jobs, just to take out a single servant and master, weren't you? What, do you have bombs in the basement or something?"

Berserker's words were spoken quietly enough that they didn't carry beyond the parking lot, for which Kiritsugu was glad. He didn't need the extra attention.

"You know a lot about explosives for an ancient heroic spirit," he remarked succinctly as a plan formed in his mind. He'd taken the servant's measure and believed he didn't have anything to fear from her. Like Saber, Berserker clearly viewed herself as a passionate defender of justice and thus wouldn't kill him so long as he appeared unarmed and didn't attack her. Such hypocritical honor angered him, but he had no qualms about using it to his advantage and the important thing to do now was escape before Berserker made it impossible to do so.

"I know someone who's into stuff like that," Berserker answered without missing a beat, still glaring at him. "This is a war between masters and servants, Emiya, and I won't let you drag innocent people into this conflict."

"Innocents have already been dragged into this conflict," Kiritsugu retorted coldly. "Or have you not watched the news recently?"

The servant winced, and Kiritsugu crossed her off his list of suspects for the child abductions. Nobody involved in that crime would look so regretful.

"And if you want to spare innocent people, you should know that my cell-phone is the detonator and it's rigged to automatically trigger the bombs if it is damaged," he half-lied, raising the electronic device up for the servant's inspection...and then throwing it with all of his might to the side. "Catch!"

Berserker's blue eyes widened in alarm as she drew the false conclusion he wanted her to, and she dashed after the thrown phone with superhuman speed. At the same time, Kiritsugu turned to flee and spoke the words to activate his family's specialized magic skill-set.

"Time Alter, Double Accel."

He became a blur of motion, moving at inhuman speeds of his own as he manipulated time with an innate bounded field set within his body. Berserker receded behind him as she lunged to catch the phone before it crashed into the ground. By the time she landed on the pavement with the cell-phone clutched in her hands, Kiritsugu had already raced back into the crowd of evacuees and lost himself in the sea of unsettled, worried people. Agony flooded his entire body as blood vessels ruptured and bones fractured from time forcibly rebounding back on him, and he staggered into the person nearest him. The older man looked at him with a mixture of irritation and concern, and Kiritsugu muttered a quiet apology as he regained his balance, ignored the pain through experience and hard-earned stoicism, and walked off.

 _That could have gone better_ , the Magus Killer thought with understated irony, stretching his awareness to detect Berserker if she followed. It seemed unlikely that the servant, having lost sight of him, would try to find him again in this crowd since the last thing she wanted was to involve civilians in the war, but right now he had every reason to be cautious. Fortunately, Berserker's heroic words were more than just talk, and he felt her race towards the hotel—presumably to warn those still inside—before her aura became too weak for him to sense without active magecraft.

 _Predictable_.

Kiritsugu felt no satisfaction as he lowered his head, pulled the edges of his collar up to hide his mouth, and reached inside his trench coat for the walkie-talkie stored there. Surreptitiously, he raised the device's transmitter to his lips and whispered his instructions.

"Maiya, this is Kiritsugu. Use the back-up to detonate now."

Only static answered him, and the Magus Killer couldn't suppress the concern he felt at the silence.

"Maiya?"

* * *

 _ **Ring-ring!**_

Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri glanced at her fiancé as he frowned and set down the glass of wine in his hand. Kayneth didn't appear happy at the interruption, and Sola-Ui smiled slightly. She didn't care for her betrothed at all, and anything that annoyed him normally pleased her.

 _ **Ring-ring!**_

"Do you want to answer it?" the young, red-haired woman asked with false sweetness. "Or is plotting the death of Saber's master demanding too much of your concentration?"

 _ **Ring-ring!**_

Kayneth waved a hand dismissively and rose from his chair in the hotel suite's sitting room. "It's probably someone calling to see if we're still in our rooms. I'll hypnotize the caller into believing we're outside and that'll be that."

 _ **Ring-ring!**_

"Hello?"

Sola-Ui watched with interest as her fiancé's face first filled with surprise and then anger at whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying, and for once she didn't mind when he used magic to communicate with her telepathically.

 _Sola-Ui, take command of the scouting familiars immediately and send them down to the basement to look for explosives! Also, prepare a mass levitation spell!_

The Irishwoman felt her face pale at Kayneth's frantic words, and she rushed to obey with uncharacteristic acquiescence. As she did so, her fiancé lowered the phone's handset and pressed the button for the speaker so she could listen to the conversation.

"Berserker, I am sending scouts to investigate your claims," he spoke with forced calm, looking down at the phone and stroking his chin as he considered his options. "However, assuming they do find explosives, how do I know this isn't a trap designed to force me from my sanctuary so you and the Einzbern can take me down together?"

The young girl's voice on the other end of the phone call sounded upset as she answered. "Because Emiya is a threat not just to us but to any bystanders who happen to get in his way. I could never ally with—let alone condone!—such a ruthless killer! Besides, use your head and think about it tactically for a moment. King Arthur is one of the strongest servants in this war. As long as Lancer's curse weakens her I might be able to defeat her, but if I help her defeat you instead? It's in my master's best interests to help you! That's why he sent me here—to make an alliance to defeat the Einzbern."

Kayneth nodded his head slightly and turned to face Sola-Ui. The worry in her light brown eyes made it clear what she'd found, but she mouthed a confirmation anyway. Having verified the situation, Kayneth returned to the conversation.

"I see. I've confirmed your warning about the bombs, so you and your master appear to be somewhat trustworthy. However, I won't evacuate. Now that I've located the threat, I have ways to render such devices impotent. As for an alliance...you said you're in the hotel lobby?"

"Yes. I'm calling you from the front desk. That's how I found this number."

"Good. Head outside, and I'll send Lancer to meet you in ten minutes. Your master and I can discuss specifics through the two of you, but for now I am in agreement with him."

The blond Association lord glowered down at the phone, and there was no mistaking the fury in his next words.

"The Einzbern and Emiya Kiritsugu have made a mockery of this competition for long enough, and on my pride as a mage I vow they will pay _dearly_ for it."


	5. Ch4 - Yes, You Are That Transparent

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Four – Yes, Lancer, You Are That Transparent.

"After having Assassin perform a detailed investigation, we learned that Caster and his master have kidnapped children from their beds in both Miyami and the city's other half. By dawn, they had fifteen. I'd imagine them to be the serial killer everyone is all worked up over. They use magic without the slightest hesitation, doing nothing to hide its traces. Quite possibly, they're not even thinking of the Holy Grail War."

Kirei paused for a moment as he stood in front of the enchanted phonograph inside the Kotomine Church to give his father and Tokiomi time to process the implications of his report. The former was behind and slightly to the right of him, while the latter remained safely ensconced in his mansion on the other side of the city. Kirei pictured his magic teacher seated comfortably in an upholstered wooden chair in his basement study and frowning as he listened, and he was the first to speak in response to Kirei's words.

"A mad servant, out of control, and a master who cannot control him. Why is someone like that participating in the Grail War?"

Tokiomi sounded puzzled to Kirei's ears, as if the fire magus viewed the confirmation of Caster's involvement in the city's mass kidnappings as a mystery to mull over rather than a crime to punish. That troubled Kirei less than he knew it should, and what unease he did feel came more from the knowledge that the last question could just as easily be asked of him. Like Caster's master, he was someone with no interest in the Grail and would not even be fighting in this war had the Church not asked it of him. What did it mean, he wondered, that the war's other aimless master appeared to be a sociopathic serial killer?

"I have more news to report," Kirei spoke, privately relieved to have a legitimate reason to change subjects. "While Saber and her Einzbern companion confronted Caster, Emiya Kiritsugu attempted to assassinate Lord El-Melloi by planting explosives inside the Hyatt Hotel. He triggered the fire alarms to give the people inside time to evacuate, but El-Melloi remained within his suite, presumably believing his opponent would attack using traditional means. Berserker, however, arrived on the scene and forced Emiya to flee before he could detonate the bombs. Assassin covertly observed her from a safe distance as she later met with Lancer and negotiated a partnership between their masters to eliminate the Einzbern from the war."

The young executor deliberately did not mention that he had been an observer of these events too or that he had attacked Emiya's partner, a well-trained black-haired woman, in blatant violation of both his standing orders from Tokiomi and the terms of the sanctuary his father had given him. She had escaped thanks to outside intervention, likely Emiya's, but the knowledge that she was someone the Magus Killer valued highly enough to save made Kirei feel his venture had been worthwhile. Every additional fact about Emiya he learned brought him closer to understanding the man and, through that, hopefully himself.

"This is outrageous," Risei said unhappily, his lined features reflecting his displeasure. "We have one master and servant who violate the rules by using magic openly to kidnap and murder children, and we have another master who's using non-magical weapons to circumvent the rules on secrecy and endangering innocents."

"Yes, that is, unfortunately, something of a specialty of Emiya's," Tokiomi remarked, the disdain he felt for the man evident in his elegant baritone voice. "He shows no reverence for the nobility of magic and frequently employs terrorist tactics to take down his targets. Had El-Melloi properly researched the Einzbern's hound, he would have known how foolish choosing the Hyatt Hotel as his base of operations was."

Tokiomi's tone became contemplative as he continued.

"Still, now that El-Melloi knows the nature of his enemy and has Berserker's support, we can reasonably predict that he will directly assault the Einzbern estate in the next night or two. Pride and common sense both demand it, since El-Melloi will remain Emiya's primary target until the curse on Saber's left hand is lifted. If we're lucky the two of them will eliminate each other, and if nothing else observing the battle through Assassin's eyes should allow us to learn more about Kariya's Berserker."

"That would be prudent," Risei agreed solemnly. "From what my son has reported, she exhibits none of the normal symptoms of Mad Enhancement. It's possible Zouken followed Jubstacheit's example in the Third War by replacing the Berserker class with one of his own making and is having Kariya and his servant be more discreet about it. Or perhaps he modified the class in some way; he is the one who designed the class templates, after all, and with her stats encrypted as they are we have no means to verify the truth one way or another. She bears watching. And speaking of her...has your research turned up anything on the name she gave, Tokiomi?"

The fire magus sighed tiredly, and Kirei visualized the brown-haired man shaking his head on the other end of the line.

"No, it has not," Tokiomi said regretfully. "I've only completed a preliminary search thus far, but I have found no references to a Miki Sayaka in any of the famous legends and histories of Japan. The name she gave may be a pseudonym, or history may remember her under a different moniker. Her legend could also be particularly obscure. Whatever the truth is, I will need more clues to narrow down her true identity."

Kirei decided it was time for him to speak up again and cleared his throat.

"I will have Assassin continue observing her as best he can without risking detection, and I will assign another two to join their sister in monitoring the Einzbern estate," he announced. "With three sets of eyes on the ground there, we should be able to monitor all developments. However, if our plan for dealing with El-Melloi and the Einzbern is to have them eliminate each other, what shall we do about Caster? Defeating a servant requires another servant, but we can't send my Assassin and your Archer, Tokiomi, is...temperamental."

Risei's lips quirked upwards slightly, and he took a small step forward. "I can handle matters on that front. Caster's actions go beyond what I can tolerate as the war's overseer, so I will inform the other masters of his crimes and use my authority to declare a temporary ceasefire until he and his master have been dealt with, with the offer of an extra command seal to the one who performs the deed. Emiya and El-Melloi will, naturally, ignore the ceasefire to focus on each other since there's so much bad blood between them, so I can use that as pretense to deny them the reward if either one defeats Caster."

"Brilliant," Tokiomi praised, and Kirei now pictured the fire magus steepling his hands together in front of him. "That should resolve the issue handily, and, although I'm not fond of seeing an enemy master obtain a fourth command seal, that is still a far better outcome than letting Caster and his master continue their impertinence. Their actions threaten the entire war, and, as one responsible for guarding the secrets of magic, that is something I _cannot_ allow."

Kirei nodded his head in dutiful agreement but privately contemplated if he could use this as an excuse to move more openly. As an executor, ensuring that the dangers of the supernatural, "moonlit" world did not harm the lives of ordinary people was just as much his job as Tokiomi's, and the sheer heinousness of Caster's actions provided ample justification for him to "assist" in the hunt. And if, while following the mad servant's trail, he just so happened to cross Emiya's path again...

"Then we are in agreement," Risei pronounced gravely. "I will notify the masters that there will be an important announcement at dawn. In the meantime, I advise the two of you inform your own servants. It would benefit your cause tremendously, Tokiomi, if you can persuade Archer to eliminate Caster for us, but either way the war is now entering its next phase, and things will only become more dangerous from here on out. We must be prepared for anything."

* * *

"El-Melloi will attack tonight," Emiya Kiritsugu spoke with certainty from where he sat at the head of a wooden table in one of the Einzbern castle's multiple parlor rooms. "He is one of the Mage's Association's best and brightest, and he has an unknown number of mystic codes to aid him in the assault. We must be prepared for anything."

Maiya nodded solemnly as she stood slightly behind him and to his right, while Irisviel looked worried from where she sat at the side of the table. Saber stood beside her protectively, and Kiritsugu idly noted that the two women had changed clothes since he last saw them at the docks. His wife now wore her usual burgundy blouse and white skirt while Saber was clothed in the black suit they'd purchased for her so she could appear with Irisviel in public. The heroic spirit was also glaring at him disapprovingly and doing nothing to hide her angry expression, but Kiritsugu's mind was too preoccupied with other thoughts to feel anything except perverse vindication at being found wanting in the King of Knights' judgment.

"Moreover, it is likely Berserker will be accompanying him and Lancer when they strike," he continued, the calmness of his voice a contrast to the tension in the room. "Current intelligence points to Matou Kariya as being her master, but he is unlikely to personally join the attack because of his poor health. So it will be one master and two servants against us."

"Those aren't good odds," Irisviel mused aloud, her pale lips pursed pensively. "Between my alchemy, your combat skills, and the castle's defenses, we should be able to manage Lord El-Melloi. However, only Saber can match a heroic spirit, and two against one is extremely disadvantageous for her."

"And I must protest against Irisviel's involvement in the upcoming battle," Saber spoke up, still frowning as she looked at her true master. "From what she has told me, her magecraft—while powerful—is ill-suited for direct combat. And after your actions last night, you have no right to put her life at risk again."

Kiritsugu ignored both Saber and her reproach and addressed solely Irisviel. "Iri, you and Maiya will observe the battle from the basement. Security monitors and a crystal ball have been placed downstairs so that you can guide your magecraft by sight while remaining out of harm's way. Saber will wait outside to draw Lancer and Berserker away from El-Melloi. As a mage, his pride will compel him to face me alone to prove his superiority, while Lancer's code of honor will force him to fight Saber one-on-one in honorable combat."

Saber's eyes bored into him, her displeasure growing even greater as he described without shame how he'd exploit the codes of honor and chivalry she esteemed. He wasn't surprised, and this was exactly why he'd decided that Irisviel would serve as the heroic spirit's surrogate master. King Arthur and the Magus Killer were two minds that would never see eye to eye, and it was better for both of them if they spent as little time together as possible.

"Should El-Melloi listen to common sense instead and have everyone attack together, I will recall Saber with a command seal," Kiritsugu explained matter-of-factly. "Victory will be achieved by eliminating El-Melloi as quickly as possible, thereby also eliminating Lancer and removing the curse on Saber's hand. With that handicap gone, she can destroy Berserker and we'll have eliminated a quarter of the opposition in one night."

"And if instead of following Lancer or staying with Lancer's master, Berserker goes after Irisviel instead?" Saber asked tersely, speaking up again. "What then? Berserker agreed not to harm her earlier so long as Irisviel remained out of combat, and your plan removes that guarantee of your wife's safety. How can you—"

Kiritsugu suddenly turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. "The war's judge is making an announcement," he muttered, dismissively interrupting his servant's speech as he watched and listened through the eyes of a familiar. He remained still and silent for several minutes as the others in the room waited. Finally, he returned to himself, and a cold, merciless smile graced his lips.

"Kotomine Risei has confirmed what we discovered last night and ordered a ceasefire to allow everyone to hunt Caster and his master. The master and servant who eliminate them will be rewarded with an extra command seal."

Irisviel's eyes lit up thoughtfully at the news, and Saber looked pleased for the first time since stepping into the same room as Kiritsugu.

"Excellent. Even a single breath more in this world is greater than that fiend deserves. His atrocities must be punished, and the sooner we strike the more innocent lives we'll save. I'll—"

"This changes nothing," Kiritsugu stated dispassionately as Saber looked at him in shock. "In a way, it even helps us. Caster's delusional belief that Saber is the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc means he'll come to us, so there's no need to search for him. And if he shows up while El-Melloi is already here, the extra command seal increases the odds that the other servants will focus on him and leave El-Melloi and me to our own battle. The plan remains the same."

The expression of scorn on Saber's face would have sent a lesser man to his knees. "Master, you mock the pride and values of heroic spirits, you condemn innocents for the sake of a fleeting strategic advantage, and you place your own wife in harm's way! You are—"

Whatever further words the blonde servant had planned to say were silenced as Irisviel placed a calming hand on Saber's forearm and looked up at her with her expressive red eyes.

"Saber, I appreciate your concern, but this is something my husband and I should talk about privately. Would you mind escorting Miss Hisau outside and giving the two of us a few minutes alone?"

The blonde servant grit her teeth and glanced at her true master whose world-weary black eyes refused to meet her own and instead gazed through her as if she didn't exist. She then looked down at the woman she had sworn to protect, sighed unhappily, and nodded her head.

"Very well, Irisviel. Please notify me when you require my presence again."

Saber dutifully walked to the parlor's exit where she held the door open for Maiya. The black-haired mercenary nodded once politely at both her partner and his wife and then departed through the open door. The heroic spirit followed a moment later and shut the door behind her.

"Kiri, you really shouldn't ignore Saber like that," Irisviel scolded lightly a minute later as she got up from her chair and walked over to her husband's side. "I know you don't think the two of you can get along, but you're making a bad situation worse. Antagonizing her only makes it harder for her to work with us."

"With me, you mean," Kiritsugu remarked unconcernedly. "She gets along fine with you, and that's all that's necessary. The servants are merely tools in this war, distractions, when the only targets that truly matter are the enemy masters."

Irisviel closed her eyes and sighed the longsuffering sigh of one who's argued the same point many times before. Shaking her head once exasperatedly, she leaned down and rested a hand on her husband's left shoulder.

"Honestly, Kiri, you can be just as stubborn as our daughter at times," she spoke good-humoredly. "But I love you for it anyway. Now, why don't you tell me what's really bothering you? You've been anxious ever since you returned to the castle."

Kiritsugu turned his head to meet his wife's gaze and, for the briefest of moments, considered lying to her. He hated himself in the very next moment for that thought, and with a sigh of his own he looked down at his feet.

"I hesitated," he explained, voice calm but becoming increasingly reproachful as he continued. "At the Hyatt Hotel. I could have detonated the bombs sooner, but when I thought about the women and children who would be caught in the explosion...I faltered, and because I put a few hundred lives ahead of the nearly six billion that can be saved with the Grail, Berserker had time to interfere, and El-Melloi remains alive. I _wasted_ a perfectly good opening for the sake of assuaging a guilty conscience!"

Irisviel shook her head and reached over to wrap her arms around her husband's shoulders sympathetically.

"You're too hard on yourself, my love," the homunculus said soothingly. "There's no guarantee the bombs would have murdered Lord El-Melloi, and you have no idea how long Berserker was at the hotel for. Had you sent the signal earlier, she might have seen you and killed you on the spot. And for what it's worth, I believe you did the right thing. Enough good people are already going to die because of this war, even without sacrificing bystanders."

Kiritsugu knew what his wife's words meant and who she referred to, and it made him angry—not at her, but at himself and the world, and the fury was enough to finally crack the stoic mask he wore.

"You're among those lives, Iri! And if I must sacrifice you, then what do the lives of a few bystanders or even an entire city matter if they're in the way to victory? You mean everything to me, and I...I'm going to lose you, no matter what I do."

His last words came out in a ragged, heartbroken tone, and Irisviel drew him closer to her. Kiritsugu wrapped his own arms around her waist and returned the embrace, holding her desperately. This was a dimension of himself the Magus Killer rarely let others see, but here, alone with his wife during her last days, he didn't have the strength to hide it.

"I was lost the moment I was created," Irisviel spoke quietly. "But thanks to you, my life has had meaning. Thanks to you, I have been a woman and a mother, and when I fulfill my function and become the vessel for the Holy Grail I will have the pleasure of granting your wish and creating a better world for our daughter. That...that means more to me than you can possibly imagine, Kiri, so never hate yourself for my sacrifice. I do it gladly and of my own free will, and all I ask in return is that you be happy in the future with our daughter. Illya will need you, and you will need her."

Kiritsugu remained silent, unwilling and unable to respond to that. Instead, he stayed by his wife, holding and simultaneously being held by her, and drew strength from her conviction. The same conviction he had imparted to her. The same conviction that would destroy her. And the same conviction that, even as it strengthened him for the battles that lay ahead, killed him bit by excruciating bit on the inside.

* * *

The Matou crest worms continued killing Kariya bit by excruciating bit on the inside as he slept uneasily, but in his sleep he dreamed, and he saw—

— _a circular knot garden filled with flowers and built to resemble a labyrinth. Behind it, the sun set and bathed an unfamiliar cityscape in hues of red and orange. A pedestal stood in the maze's center with a cat-like creature unlike any Kariya had seen before perched on top. The animal's fur was a pristine snow-white except for a few amaranthine colored patches shaped in meaningful yet mysterious patterns, and an extra set of furry appendages encircled by two floating golden rings sprouted out of its feline ears. The creature's large, bushy tail lay draped behind it on the pedestal, and its red eyes—unwavering and unsettlingly intelligent—bore down on a familiar blue-haired girl in a tan middle school uniform._

 _"You can really grant any wish, right?" Miki Sayaka asked the creature earnestly._

 _The creature replied without moving its mouth in an androgynous, child-like voice that resonated deeply in one's head despite the complete absence of physical sound._

 _"Don't worry. Your wish is absolutely grantable. So…ready?"_

 _Sayaka's response was not immediate, but when it came her tone was certain._

 _"Yes. Do it."_

 _The feline animal blinked once, and then its extra limbs rose and reached into the young girl's chest, passing through clothes and flesh alike as if both were insubstantial. Sayaka murmured uncomfortably but otherwise remained silent as the two appendages remained inside her body for one long, pregnant moment…and then the limbs withdrew. In their wake, a small, stunningly beautiful blue radiance emerged from Sayaka's chest and ascended into the air above the middle schooler as, impossibly slowly, she fell backwards to the ground with a vacant, almost lifeless expression on her face._

 _"Now...open yourself and accept it," the white creature intoned solemnly. "This is your destiny."_

 _The miniature blue star took on substance and began to fall, first hardening into an orb and then forming into the recognizable shape of her soul gem. Sayaka, still falling, reached for it, and life returned to her features. She half-smiled before her expression turned resolute, and then her hands caught the soul gem as her back touched down on the flower-laden ground. A flurry of disturbed petals fluttered up into the air around her and—_

Kariya awoke with a jolt as one of the crest worms nibbled on a nerve in his left arm. Wincing, he threw off the blanket draped over him and reached over with his right hand to apply pressure and assuage the pain. Blearily, momentarily confused, he took in the sight of tall trees, early afternoon sunshine penetrating the leafy canopy, and wooded undergrowth surrounding him, and then he remembered the events of last night and exhaled wearily in comprehension.

"Good afternoon, Matou!" Sayaka said cheerfully from where she leaned against the thick bark of a nearby oak tree. She was wearing her white and blue cloth armor again and had been standing guard while he slept. After Emiya's stunt at the Hyatt last night, both he and his servant had realized that not only was hiding within a crowd _not_ a guarantee of safety but that it also put innocent lives at risk. That was something neither he nor she could accept, so—using the remainder of his and her combined funds—they'd bought some cheap camping supplies and nonperishables and hiked deep into the forests of Mount Enzou where he intended to hide until the Magus Killer had been dealt with. The only alternative sanctuary was the Matou manor, and Kariya refused to endanger Sakura like that.

...Though he did have to admit, the thought of Emiya blowing up his childhood home with Zouken inside did have tremendous appeal...

With another tired sigh, Kariya dismissed the amusing mental image and returned his servant's greeting. The sight of her reminded him of his recent dream, and his face scrunched up in puzzlement. What he'd seen had to be part of the Dream Cycle Zouken had told him about as part of his "education" over the past year, in which a master relives the memories of his servant while sleeping. However, if his dream had been a scene from his servant's life, why had the setting appeared so modern? The city he'd seen could rival parts of Tokyo's heavily developed skyline, but that made no sense with what he knew about heroic spirits and their ages. And what had been up with that cat?

"Matou, is everything all right?"

"I'm...just thinking about tonight," he lied in response to his servant's concerned query, making the decision to put off the talk about her past he knew the two of them needed to have. He wanted his servant at her best for the planned assault on the Einzbern tonight, and broaching a subject that even he with his pain-addled mind could see made her uncomfortable wouldn't help. _After_ the Einzbern's servant was eliminated, though...well, it was long past time he learned more about Berserker than just her name!

"What's your opinion of El-Melloi?" he continued, grunting once as he released his arm and rose to his feet. "It's hard to get a good impression of someone when you're both communicating through proxies."

Sayaka snorted. "I don't need to meet the man in person to know he's an arrogant jerk. You heard him last night at the docks. Still, if you're worried about him betraying us after we take down Saber and her master, I don't think he will. A man like that...so long as he believes he's winning and doesn't become desperate, he'll play by the rules for no reason other than to show his _superiority_ over everyone else in this war."

Kariya nodded as he rummaged through his pack for something to eat. That more or less matched his assessment of the man, but he wanted to be certain. There was no point in him sending his servant to help the Association lord defeat the Einzbern if El-Melloi immediately turned around and commanded Lancer to destroy Berserker afterwards.

"And speaking of tonight, Matou," Sayaka continued earnestly, "shouldn't we try to convince El-Melloi to go after Caster first rather than Saber? I know you're both eager to deal with the Einzbern, but you heard what Father Kotomine said this morning. Caster needs to be stopped, and fighting anyone else is now a violation of the rules!"

The Matou master blinked. That...hadn't even occurred to him, and he spared a brief thought to wonder when he'd developed such horrible tunnel vision. Fixating on a single target in a war with five other teams wouldn't do him any good, and gods knew he agreed with his servant and wanted Caster's murder spree stopped. However, was he willing to risk this alliance if El-Melloi insisted on going after Saber instead? And where Saber and her master were practically stationary targets right now, nobody had any idea where Caster and his master were. Gods, thinking about this made his head hurt!

"You can go ahead and try when you meet up with Lancer later...but if El-Melloi insists on attacking the Einzbern, cooperate. We'll deal with the consequences later."

"But—"

"That's an _order_ , Miki," Kariya spoke harshly, irrationally upset at being questioned over a decision he didn't approve of himself. The Einzbern and Tohsaka were the biggest obstacles in his path to victory and their servants needed to be eliminated if he was to have any hope of saving Sakura...but prioritizing the former over a psychotic killer who targeted children sickened him, even as he accepted the logic and rationalized that his partnership with El-Melloi was too important to jeopardize.

 _Looks like I have what it takes to be a magus after all, huh?_ , he thought with bitter irony as he heard Berserker tense angrily behind him. He didn't need to see her to know she was displeased with what he'd just said, but to his immense relief she didn't press the point.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to be swag-money persuasive then, won't I, master?" the young girl said coldly, crossing her arms as she turned to look away from him. "Any other 'orders' before I head out to meet up with Lancer?"

Kariya sighed heavily as he pulled an orange out of his pack. "Look, I know you don't approve, Miki, and I'm sorry. Neither do I. But we're the junior partners in this alliance, and El-Melloi could just as easily attack the Einzbern estate tonight without us and probably do just fine. I need you there to generate goodwill as well as provide support, because _after_ Saber's gone and _after_ Caster's been eliminated we need to defeat Archer, and that's going to require all the help we can get."

"And violating a ceasefire will help us make allies _how_ again?" Sayaka rebutted sardonically, glancing backwards at her master. "I get where you're coming from, Matou, and I'll go along with it for now because you're my master and we've already agreed to help El-Melloi and Lancer, but from what you've told me there are _damn_ good reasons why Father Kotomine has the authority to make rule changes, and flouting his words will only make us look super untrustworthy to everyone else."

Kariya had nothing to say to that, and there was silence between master and servant for several long seconds before Sayaka uncrossed her arms and turned to face him again.

"...Anyway, are you sure you'll be all right with me gone? It could be dangerous being out here alone."

Glad to have something else to talk about, Kariya nodded his head and began to absently peel the orange in his hands. "I should be fine. The insect familiars I summoned last night have hatched and are all up and patrolling. They'll let me know if anyone approaches, and if it's a servant or a master I'll use a command seal to recall you. The only servant with the skills to sneak by them is Assassin, and since he's dead we don't have anything to worry about."

* * *

Assassin grinned beneath his skull mask as he watched his two targets—the Matou master and his peculiar servant—from nearly two dozen yards away and eavesdropped on their conversation through lip reading. Gullible fools like these two always made his work so much simpler, and he was even having a bit of fun evading Matou's insect familiars although he knew his sister would chide him for the unprofessional sentiment later. What a hypocrite, that one, when he knew she enjoyed the sense of power found in holding someone else's life in one's hands just as much—if not more than!—the rest of their brethren. And this was such an excellent opportunity to practice their ancient trade that he found it hard to pass up. All he had to do was wait for Berserker to leave, slip past Matou's guard, and then stick a dirk in his back!

He resisted the temptation to finish an easy target, though, for a number of reasons. First, revealing himself—even to eliminate an enemy master—contravened the orders of his own master who had made it abundantly clear he was to reconnoiter and nothing more. His loyalty to Kirei may be feigned, but there was no reason to give his master and the Tohsaka magus his master served cause to doubt his faithfulness just yet.

Second—and far more important, in his mind—letting Matou and Berserker live so they could help El-Melloi and Lancer defeat the Einzbern served his own purposes. Assassin knew he could never match Saber in battle, even with her weakened as she was, and both Emiya and the Einzbern homunculus were too clever by far to leave themselves as vulnerable as this worm-infested idiot did on a regular basis. Assassin was confident he'd have plenty of new opportunities to eliminate the Matou master after the fool helped remove a far more formidable opponent.

And third, although Matou's familiars had not spotted him...the same could not be said of Zouken's. Mixed in yet distinct from the Matou master's sentries, remaining undetected by the makeshift magus, they watched Assassin watching Matou as Assassin watched them in turn. They could have easily warned the younger Matou of his presence had Zouken wanted them to, but they did not. The Servant of the Shadows could surmise several competing explanations for this, but he did not desire to test Zouken's noninterference by threatening his family's chosen master. Not yet, at least, not when letting him live offered so many other advantages.

No, for now the Matou master had nothing to fear from the shadows. Tomorrow, though, might well be a different story.

Still grinning, Assassin telepathically relayed his information to Kirei, requested that someone be sent to take his place observing the Matou master, and then stealthily followed after the departing Berserker. Nothing would escape his eyes.

* * *

Nothing escaped Lancer's orange eyes as he swung his crimson spear, Gae Dearg, with his left hand to block Berserker's sword strike and then thrust his yellow spear, Gae Buidhe, forward with his right hand to push her back. At his request, the two of them were having a duel in a forest clearing far from the city proper, and Berserker was throwing herself into the fight eagerly, attacking swiftly and aggressively as she raced around and occasionally above him trying to penetrate his guard. However, as fast as she was, the Irish knight unfailingly remained one step ahead of her, expertly reading her intent and using his superior reach to thwart her strikes before her cutlass could come close enough to harm him.

Ostensibly, this duel was to give them an opportunity to gauge each other's skill before they fought together tonight against Saber and her master. As such, Lancer's cursed spears were both wrapped in the warding fabric his master had provided, and Berserker was refraining from using her own noble phantasms, whatever they might be. In truth, though, Lancer reflected as he reversed Gae Dearg's swing and crossed his weapons to stop his opponent's retaliatory strike, he had suggested this duel to allow Berserker to work off her obvious frustration in a dignified manner. She hadn't taken his master's refusal to pursue Caster until after Saber's defeat well, and she had already been upset before that. And while one could argue that angry should be Berserker's natural state, Lancer believed it was better to go into battle with a clear and calm mind.

The Servant of the Spear was also, if he was honest with himself, eager to test himself against another heroic spirit. His battle against Saber last night had been one of the highlights of his life, obtaining recognition from no less than the famed King Arthur that his skills were a match for her own, if not superior. And while Berserker was no King Arthur, she was still a heroic spirit and fought well enough that he couldn't afford to treat her lightly.

Several clangs rang out as Lancer, spotting an opening, switched from defense to offense and pressed an attack, thrusting repeatedly with one spear and slashing swiftly with the other. Berserker parried over a dozen strikes and alternately ducked under and dodged around two dozen more, but while she was partway through a side-step Lancer unexpectedly abandoned his strategy of remaining outside her striking distance, lunged forward, and kicked her left leg out from under her. She immediately stamped down her right foot to regain her balance and swung her cutlass at him to drive him back, but Lancer blocked the strike with Gae Buidhe and used his momentary advantage to swing the shaft of the longer Gae Dearg into her waist, batting her aside.

To Berserker's credit, her only indication of surprise was a pained grunt as she flew through the air and landed on her feet a few short yards away, her cutlass still tightly gripped by both hands and raised defensively. Had Lancer followed after her, she would have been ready to meet him without a moment's delay. Instead, he lowered his spears.

"In accordance with the terms of this duel, first blood is mine. Nicely fought, Berserker. Had you penetrated my guard I would have been in dire straits."

Berserker wasn't entirely able to hide the look of disappointment on her face but still managed to grin ruefully as she dismissed her cutlass in a flash of blue light. "Heh, like you would have let that happen. I have my pride, but I'm not blind. I'd have had to go all out on Mad Enhancement to even get close to you. I can see how you gave King Arthur so much trouble."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he answered amiably, not fully able to repress his smile at the compliment. "It is impossible to determine how we truly match up against each other when we're both holding so much back. Still, you fought well...and I hope this battle has helped you release some of your anger at my master for refusing your request to go after Caster."

Berserker opened her mouth once, twice, and then lifted a hand to the back of her head sheepishly. "Ah, I, uh, see you noticed that."

Lancer chuckled chivalrously. "It would have been hard for me not to. Still, I understand your feelings. Caster's heinous deeds trouble me too and demand retribution. However, I suspect you're overlooking something in your haste to punish him for his crimes."

His blue-eyed ally tilted her head to the side and gazed at him inquisitively. "And that would be?"

Lancer held up his left hand and raised a single finger. "Emiya Kiritsugu the Magus Killer. If he was willing to collapse an entire building using bombs to murder my master, do you honestly believe he'll honor Father Kotomine's decree? No, a man like that is more likely to use Caster as a distraction and ambush the other servants and masters while they're focused on the Servant of the Spell. Until Saber's master has been dealt with, nobody can hunt Caster in safety."

Berserker's silently mouthed "Oh" made it clear to Lancer that she hadn't thought of that, but she still appeared troubled with the decision.

"Even if that's true...rules are rules, and I don't like the idea of breaking them just because someone else is going to break them first. That's not—"

"—honorable?" Lancer finished for her and, at Berserker's nod, elaborated. "True, but there are many forms of honor. Honor in manners and personal conduct, honor among friends and between enemies, honor in combat, and honor in fulfilling your duties, to name a few. And as servants, we are sworn to the service of our masters, even when we disagree with them. You have voiced your opposition but are still willing to follow your own master's orders. There is honor to be found in that, and when codes of honor conflict...sometimes you have to choose one and do what you feel is most right."

Lancer's sharp eyes momentarily turned somber as he remembered his lover, Grainne, and his king, Fionn mac Cumhaill, and how he had been torn between the two of them. He did not regret his choice to run away with Grainne, but his disloyalty to his liege was a stain on his honor and the name Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First Warrior of the Knights of Fianna, that could never be erased.

"Besides," he continued, forcibly clearing his thoughts, "putting aside the war's own rules and our masters' orders, we can still act honorably ourselves. When we engage Saber, if you would—"

"—stand aside to keep an eye out for more Einzbern shenanigans so you and Saber can have your rematch without interference?" Berserker interrupted with a sly grin on her youthful features, suddenly sounding much more cheerful than she had a few moments ago.

"Am I that transparent?" Lancer asked good-naturedly, not denying his ally's words.

Berserker's smile widened until it nearly spread across her entire face. "In a word, yes. Yes, you are, _Romeo_."

"Romeo?" Lancer repeated, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't—"

Berserker held up a hand and sighed. "Don't worry about it. The reference is too new for you, and I was only teasing anyway. I just...I understand what you're saying. Sometimes, there are some fights you need to finish on your own. Just don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it, though. I don't know what your wish is, but if you accepted the Grail's invitation it must be something important to you. And if there's one thing I've learned from hard experience, it's that wishes are precious."

This time, Lancer kept his reaction carefully guarded and merely nodded his head. "Thank you, Berserker. May we both find honor in fulfilling our pledges to our masters tonight...and Saber too, if her own duties and sworn oaths allow. No knight should have to endure the distress of serving a lord they cannot respect and whose cause they disagree with, and it would be a double tragedy for such an unhappy fate to befall the King of Knights."

The two servants were both silent for a moment after that, reflecting on their own circumstances and their private relationships with their masters. Lancer ended it by smiling gamely and raising his weapons again.

"Before tonight comes, though, let me give you a few tips on your swordsmanship. You are not of the Saber class, but you still wield a blade. And as both your ally and a swordmaster myself, it behooves me to ensure you are worthy of the weapon."

Berserker grinned and conjured a new cutlass in response. "I'll take that as a challenge. Ready whenever you are!"

With a rapid step, Lancer crouched and lunged forward, and within seconds the sound of weapons clanging rang out in the clearing again, accompanied by occasional instruction as the Servant of the Spear called out over the din of battle. Berserker may not be a knight by training, Lancer thought to himself, but in spirit she seemed to more than meet the qualifications, and that pleased him immensely. His own...troubles with his master notwithstanding, this war had given him a noble lord to serve, an honorable comrade-in-arms to fight alongside, a gallant foe to battle, and a glorious quest to pursue, and Lancer truly couldn't ask for more out of a second life. All things considered, he was looking forward to tonight.

* * *

 _What a terrible night_ , Assassin thought pensively as she patrolled the edge of the arcane bounded field protecting the Einzbern estate on the side facing Fuyuki. She was an older woman in appearance, slightly bent from her many years with gnarled limbs and thin, gray-speckled purple hair, but despite her apparent age the servant moved silently with powerful, sure strides and catlike grace as she ricocheted through the forest. Instead of weakness, her venerability gave her wisdom and a keen perceptiveness many of her younger kindred lacked, and both traits informed her that tonight would be a wash at best and a bloodbath at worst. There were too many players and too many plans, and Assassin knew what happened whenever too many gambits piled up against each other.

 _And to think, young Kotomine would be walking into this fiasco if Tohsaka hadn't requested he remain at the church to give up-to-the-minute reports on Lord El-Melloi's attack. What a troublesome master he is._

The elderly Assassin repressed the impulse to shake her head disapprovingly. She wasn't an octogenarian bemused by the antics of the young, and her skull mask would ruin the effect anyway. Besides, for one with her... _unique_ psychology, Kotomine's obsession was easy enough to understand, and she could sympathize in part. He sought to become whole by gaining a true understanding of himself, whereas the Assassins sought the same thing by achieving true unity amongst themselves. And after defying the laws of time and space to take part in this blasphemous holy war that had nothing to do with Allah and true holiness for the sake of that wish, could Assassin fault Kotomine for being similarly single-minded in his own quest for truth?

 _Yes. Yes, I can_ , she privately reflected with the exasperation of one cursed with an abundance of common sense. Single-minded did not have to mean stupid too, but her master was taking risks and directly exposing himself to dangers that Assassin could easily handle in his place, all for the sake of eventually meeting the man he believed held the answers to his questions about himself, Emiya Kiritsugu. It all appeared foolish to Assassin's veteran eyes, especially in this modern age when all you needed to do to speak to someone was pick up a telephone and dial a number. Now _that_ would be the sensible thing to do, but alas—her master did not seek her counsel, and it seemed only a matter of time before Assassin would be forced to save her master from himself... _if_ she still needed him when that time came, of course. The Hashashin had plans of their own for the Grail, and—

 _A servant is approaching!_ , Assassin thought loudly, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the uptake in ambient mana that could only herald the arrival of a high-level supernatural existence. She faded even further into the darkness of the forest as a precaution, pressing her back against the side of a thick tree and turning her head to see which heroic spirit was the first to show himself tonight. The low-lying fog that slowly crept across the ground and the tall figure within accompanied by over two dozen smaller forms made the servant's identity obvious, and had it not been unprofessional Assassin would have sworn in disgust.

 _Caster!_

Like last night, the mad Servant of the Spell wore a muddy black robe topped with a bulging collar striped with red bands and matching, petal-like folds of cloth around his neck. His messy black hair had been smoothed back, and his large, rolling black eyes were closed as he smiled a benign smile completely at odds with the blank faces of the ensorcelled children following behind his tall, hunched over form. His left hand clutched a hideous brown grimoire decorated with the face of a blindfolded, screaming woman on the front and an emaciated and bound prisoner on the back, while his empty right hand would occasionally reach over and, with disturbing gentleness, pat the head of a nearby child. In life he had been known by the name Gilles de Rais, and his bloody legend had gone on to inspire the French folktale Bluebeard. For a man with that kind of history, it was horrifyingly transparent what purpose he intended to use his youthful entourage for.

 _Victims._

Assassin was no stranger to atrocities. Her order had fought in the Crusades and been party to many other wars and conflicts, and the many hands of the Hashashin were deeply stained with the crime of murder. However, her order also held themselves to a strict code of conduct that forbade the killing of innocents and civilians. Only their marks and those who guarded them were to be touched. Assassin was a professional killer, while Caster was a despicable _murderer_ , and, while the distinction between the two might be blurred to others, for Assassin the difference was plain as day. The thought of what he would do to these children made her blood curdle and almost convinced her to swoop in and play the hero...

...but only almost. She was, after all, a _professional_ killer, and that meant she would always put her mission and overall objectives first. Anything less would be unfitting of one who bore the name Hassan-i Sabbah. She would pray for these children and ask that their souls be entrusted to heaven, but nothing else. And that made her feel almost as terrible as she foresaw the night becoming.

 _But such is life for those who belong to the shadows, and at least I can be assured that Caster's appalling conduct will so incense Saber, Lancer, and Berserker that they will unite against him. Berserker is likely to be especially enraged since she seems to be a child herself and might even catch...Caster's...eye…Hmm..._

An idea occurred to Assassin as she contemplated her most recent train of thought, and she grinned coldly beneath her skull mask. One way or another, Caster would reap the results of his sins, and if she could play a role in delivering that punishment while simultaneously furthering her own plans? Why, so much the better.


	6. Ch5 - We'll Never Lose to You, Monster!

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Five – We'll Never Lose to the Likes of You, Monster!

Saber gasped in horror as she slowly turned her head from side to side and took in the gruesome sight her enemy had prepared for her. Fog shrouded the edges of the forest clearing she had just entered, but within the glade itself nothing obstructed her vision and she had a clear view of the mutilated, massacred bodies of nearly two dozen young children cruelly strewn about. If she looked closely, she could make out the expressions of absolute terror fixed on what remained of their lifeless faces.

"Welcome, Jeanne!" Caster's voice greeted her cheerfully from behind. Saber immediately turned to face the madman as a fury few had ever managed to stir within her settled on her regal features, but her expression chilled just as quickly when she saw that the enemy servant had left one child alive. He gently pat the head of the frightened brown-haired boy with his right hand, and the twisted smile the servant wore made it disturbingly clear he knew the value of the hostage he held.

"How do you like this horrible sight, Jeanne? It pains you, doesn't it?" Caster asked, sounding inordinately pleased at the possibility before his unsettled voice took on a melodramatic quality. "Do you despise me? I'm sure you must! I'm sure you'll never forgive me for turning from God's love!"

Saber wasted no time in giving her angry response as she tightened her grip on the invisible sword in her right hand.

"Unhand the child, monster!"

The Servant of the Spell opened his black eyes wide at the king's command, and, much to Saber's disgust, the bulging orbs shined with reverence.

"Jeanne, if you so dearly wish to rescue the boy...You know I could never deny you anything," he said adoringly. Then, to the surprise of the King of Knights, Caster did as asked. The madman looked down at the terrified boy he held as his prisoner and smiled kindly as he released him, giving the child a light push in Saber's direction.

"Rejoice, child. God's devout messenger will save you!"

The boy didn't need to be told twice. Crying in terror, he ran for the blonde servant the moment he was free and hugged her desperately, pleading for protection. Saber's fierce expression softened as she gazed down at the youth.

"It's dangerous here," she spoke softly, placing her left hand on the child's right shoulder comfortingly. "Now, run away. Follow this path, and you'll reach a large castle. There you'll find—"

Saber didn't finish, her words cut short by the sickening sound of the boy's insides twisting and stretching. A mottled red and purple tentacled horror burst forth from the child's body an instant later, splattering the blonde knight with human blood and viscera as it grappled her with its grotesque, serrated limbs. Similar otherworldly, scuttling abominations tore themselves out of the corpses scattered throughout the clearing and swiftly grew to monstrous proportions. Within seconds, they numbered in the dozens and completely surrounded her.

"I told you..." Caster said sweetly as his demented smile grew, "that when next we met, I would be prepared!"

Saber glowered as she choked out her next words, fighting for air as a tentacle wrapped around her neck and tightened.

"Very well, Caster." The King of Knight's gaze hardened into that of a merciless judge as a pale white glow traced the contours of her body. "I'm...no longer interested in...fighting you for...the Grail!" she shouted as the nimbus of magic encircling her intensified and grew brighter. "Instead, I take up...my sword to...destroy you!"

The white radiance erupted with the blinding, destructive light of a miniature supernova with Saber at its very center. The water demon that had been holding her didn't stand a chance as overwhelming magical force ripped it apart.

"Oh Jeanne...How noble! How beautiful!" Caster exclaimed, his crazed eyes lighting up ecstatically at the sight as he placed his right hand reverentially over his heart. "Holy virgin, even God's beauty pales before you!"

Saber looked disgusted as she gripped her invisible sword in both hands and charged forward. The water demons moved to intercept, some crawling, some slithering, and others leaping at her, but they were no match for the King of Knights. Saber cleaved the closest enemy with a single swing of Excalibur and then reversed the thrust and swung to slash through the second. Over a dozen of the extradimensional horrors perished in half as many seconds as the radiant servant carved a path through her enemies, but for every monster she slew new ones spawned from the flesh of their predecessors moments later. It quickly became apparent to her that the only way to stop the monstrous army was to destroy its leader, and that was a task Saber could commit herself to wholeheartedly.

"If you still believe in God, Caster, then pray to him for mercy for you'll receive none from me!"

The King of Knights shouted a battle-cry and redoubled her efforts as she launched herself at Caster. However, the madman nonchalantly waved his right hand and another wave of water demons leapt out from the behind the trees and crashed into the ground separating the servants. Saber's holy sword made short work of them, but more moved in to take their place. Caster's warped glee grew at the increasing fury and frustration in Saber's green eyes as she fought, valiantly but futilely, against overwhelming numbers. She cursed silently at her predicament, wondering how it was even possible for Caster to sustain an army this size...and then understanding dawned, and her green eyes narrowed as she glared at her enemy.

"Your source of mana...That book is your noble phantasm?" she asked aloud, seeking confirmation of what she'd deduced. Once again, Caster happily obliged her, pleased to share his secret.

"Just so, Jeanne. My teacher, Prelati, gave me the means to command a demonic legion, and _this_ —" He raised the ghastly manuscript he held in his left hand as his voice rose in pitch and demented intensity. "—is his spellbook. What do you think, Jeanne? It brings back memories, right? Everything is just as it was then, and your stately warrior's spirit and noble bearing prove you to be none other than Jeanne d'Arc!"

"So _why_?!" he demanded furiously, sudden rage contorting his gaunt features. "Why do you not awaken? Do you still believe in God's grace? Even amidst all this peril, do you still believe a miracle will save you? How tragic—"

Half a dozen thrown cutlasses interrupted Caster's ranting and would have impaled him had a water demon not sacrificed itself by leaping in front of its master. The insane servant shrieked, outraged, and looked around wildly for the new attacker.

"Who dares?! Who dares interfere with me?!"

Gurgled alien wails answered as a pair of red and yellow spears joined with a blue sword to hack and slash their way to Saber's side from behind the legion. The King of Knights' eyes widened slightly in recognition as her two fellow servants took up positions beside her defensively.

"That is my question, monster," Lancer spoke, his tone cold. "It will be my lance that takes Saber's life!"

"I think that means he likes you," Berserker joked, glancing sideways at Saber before turning her attention to the raging Servant of the Spell. "As for the two of us, we're Lancer and Berserker, and we're here to make you pay for your crimes, monster! You'll never harm another child, ever again!"

"And I think that means Berserker's furious, which can never be a good thing," Lancer chuckled as he inclined his head in Saber's direction. "Don't misunderstand us, Saber. We're here to defeat Caster, not save you...but since we all want this madman dead, how about we cooperate?"

"I can agree to those terms," Saber answered with dignity before her lips quirked upwards slightly. "But just to be clear, Lancer, Berserker, I could kill a hundred of these things with just the one arm."

"Ah, but if there were but a hundred..." Lancer remarked ruefully, eyeing the legion pensively as the water demons writhed and shifted around them. "Even Cú Chulainn might blink at the size of this horde. How did he summon so many?"

"He murdered two dozen children and used their flesh to spawn them," Saber answered in a tone that promised reprisal. "And for every monster I've slain, two or more of the beasts have emerged from the corpse."

Berserker froze at Saber's words as Caster pulled at his oily black hair and fumed.

"How dare you?! How _dare_ you?! It was my prayer—my _wish_ —that brought Jeanne back to life! Every scrap of flesh, every drop of blood, even her very soul is mine! So how dare you interrupt—"

" _MURDERER!_ "

Berserker's vengeful scream rang out across the battlefield, and Caster turned his crazed glare on her. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat at what he saw. The Servant of Madness's gaze burned with righteous fury, the look of an avenger who had discovered a heinous and unforgivable crime...but behind the twin pools of Berserker's azure eyes, something dangerous and frenzied stirred. A blue spell circle appeared beneath her feet, but it grew darker with each passing second until its hue was nearly black, and she appeared ready to throw herself at the army of abominations separating them and attempt to bludgeon and hack her way through just to kill him. Caster smiled, captivated, and Berserker's body tensed as she prepared to charge blindly forward...but Lancer's right hand came down on the blue-haired girl's shoulder calmingly.

"Mark my words, Berserker. We _will_ punish Caster for his foul deeds, and we will do it _together_ as comrades-in-arms," the Servant of the Spear spoke intently, his orange eyes tracking all movement on the battlefield.

His words had the desired effect, and Berserker, gritting her teeth, regained some of her earlier composure.

"I'll be all right as long as one of us takes down this inhuman monster and makes it so he can never kill again," she spoke haltingly, vehemently. "I don't care who or how, but his evil ends tonight! Any objections?"

There were none, and the Servants of the Sword, the Spear, and Madness charged forward together into battle.

* * *

Several swift slashes of metallic silver sliced through the front door to the Einzbern castle's entrance hall, and the wooden barrier collapsed in pieces a second later. Calmly, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald walked over the rubble into the castle's elegant foyer, the three meter sphere of mercury that was Volumen Hydragyrum, his finest mystic code, following automatically beside him. The tall magus looked around at the expensive tapestries, exquisite sculptures, antique suits of armor, and vintage furniture decorating the large chamber before his gaze stopped expectantly on the red-carpeted stairs leading to the next floor. When no one appeared after a full minute of waiting, he scoffed contemptuously.

"Feh, so your poor manners extend to not even bothering to properly greet your guests. You shame your lineage, Einzbern...or am I speaking to that disgraceful profaner of magecraft you hired instead? Not that it matters after you showed how fully you abandoned your dignity as a mage last night."

Smirking haughtily, Kayneth reached inside the underfolds of his blue overcoat and withdrew a three inch cube of black basalt. He whispered an incantation, and narrow cracks appeared in the igneous rock, dividing each side into nine matching squares. Six glowing runes, each one distinct and shining with a different phantasmal light, materialized and repeated themselves in a seemingly random order on all six surfaces, one rune for each square. Then, treating the mystic code in his hands like an elaborate Rubik's cube designed by an arcanist, the European mage began to turn the faces until he'd arranged the six surfaces so that each side displayed only one type of rune.

 _ **Click!**_

The sound of an invisible lock opening reverberated throughout the large foyer, and a wispy plume of smoke rose from the igneous cube. Kayneth threw the block across the room at the stairs as the air around it began to shimmer, rising in temperature as the mystic code released tremendous volumes of heat. Just before the rock touched the ground it pulsed a vivid, fiery orange and transformed into a crackling orb of flame that swelled in size and then condensed into a slender, long-bodied creature that loosely resembled a molten red fire salamander the size of a komodo dragon. The four-legged lizard hissed and exhaled a gout of flame as the end of its long tail lit up with a small fire.

"A simulated fire elemental," Kayneth explained in a condescending tone. "No will of its own other than to consume and spread. Easily bound to an enchanted object with the proper rites, and for a mage of my pedigree it's almost embarrassing to use such a _basic_ mystic code. Still, for vermin like yourself, it is only fitting that you be smoked out."

The fire elemental remained stationary as the Association lord spoke, smoldering with heat and fury as it impatiently awaited its master's command to act. The blond magus, indifferent to the elemental's plight, continued his lecturing tone and leisurely strolled forward.

"And _this_ is only the lowliest of the wonders I have with me tonight. You made a foolish mistake when you decided to make an enemy out of me, Einzbern and Emiya, and I will make certain you rue your error before the night is over. I am a lord of the Mage's Association, mankind's most prestigious institution of magic, while you are nothing but a—"

Kayneth's next words were cut off as his left foot connected with a tripwire and the sculptures and busts lining the walls exploded, showering him with nails and shrapnel. Volumen Hydragyrum was faster, however, and immediately moved to defend its master by becoming a protective wall. The hail of debris slammed into the magically infused mercury automaton and bounced off harmlessly. The wall melted down a second later and reformed into the liquid sphere beside the Association lord, who was frowning.

" _Mechanical_ traps? First guns, then bombs, and now _this_? You truly have forsaken all pride!" Kayneth spoke disgustedly. "I will be doing the moonlit world a favor by incinerating you both! Infernus, incandesco!"

The fire elemental hollered as it finally received the command it had been waiting for. Clambering onto the stairs and beginning its ascent, the molten reptile swung its long, sinuous tail from side to side and set both bannisters on fire. Flames followed in the wake of its steps, and everything the creature touched burned and blackened from scorching heat. Kayneth looked pleased as he watched the beginning of the summoned creature's inferno, and he unconcernedly took another few paces forward...upon which he unwittingly triggered another trap by stepping on a hidden pressure plate. The floor beneath him promptly exploded.

 _ **Ka-BOOM!**_

* * *

Maiya frowned as two video screens in front of her went white with static. Several others revealed undisturbed rooms and hallways, while three showed fires and a fourth filmed the unusual sight of an elemental salamander battling a remotely controlled, raven-shaped thread golem in a burning parlor. The raven circled around and regularly dove at the salamander to harass it, while the salamander attempted to knock the raven out of the air with its tail and fire breath. Neither summoned creature was making much progress—the salamander's molten hide significantly weakened the few talon strikes that successfully raked its scales, while the metallic threads comprising the raven endowed the golem with substantial fire resistance. This particular battle was at an impasse, so Maiya turned her head to glance at her companion in the castle's basement—formerly a wine cellar that Kiritsugu had reinforced into a bomb shelter—and see how she was faring. To the mercenary's relief, she saw nothing but implacable determination in Irisviel's red eyes.

"Good work, madam," Maiya spoke encouragingly in a soft voice. "I know manipulating your golem from this distance is challenging, but it's slowing the elemental down and drawing it away from Kiritsugu. I...I know he's grateful to you for every bit of help you provide."

The homunculus nodded her head appreciatively but otherwise kept her eyes fixed on the crystal ball on the table in front of her. The clairvoyant medium displayed the same battle Maiya had just looked away from inside its transparent depths.

"Thanks. I'm also channeling more power to the castle's anti-flame wards, but against a fire elemental the most they can do is prevent the blaze from spreading to places the elemental hasn't reached yet," she explained to her de facto bodyguard. "After this is over, remind me to task Kiri with convincing my father to install a sprinkler system."

Irisviel smiled impishly at the thought of her husband and father having _another_ argument over the use of modern appliances. Simultaneously, she brought her right hand down in a chopping motion over the crystal ball and her raven golem suddenly flew straight at the fire salamander. The fiery creature swung at the avian with its flaming tail, and the raven did not make any effort to dodge. Instead, its form collapsed when the tail struck it, and the now loose and shapeless metal threads fell and wrapped around the elemental, ensnaring it. The creature hissed as it strained against its bonds.

"That should hold the creature for a few minutes. Now let's see what Lord El-Melloi is up to..." she said out loud for Maiya's benefit. She tapped the side of her crystal ball with a finger, and the image it displayed transitioned to a ruined foyer. Smoke, flames, and settling dust filled the room, but Volumen Hydragyrum's silver tendrils burst forth from the smoldering destruction a second later and rushed down every possible path, searching.

"Lord El-Melloi's craftsmanship lives up to his reputation," Irisviel murmured, half-admiringly and half-worriedly. "Even with a point-blank explosion, his mystic code was fast enough to slide under his feet and form a barrier before its master suffered any harm beyond singed boots. Kiri has his work cut out for him."

"And Saber?" Maiya asked pensively, not liking what she was hearing.

Irisviel tapped the side of her crystal ball again and looked carefully at what it showed her.

"Enduring. Both Lancer and Berserker have joined her in fighting Caster and his minions, but those water demons can regenerate and are slowing the three of them down. Still, with three servants working together it won't be long before Caster falls."

Maiya nodded her head. So far everything was going as Kiritsugu had anticipated, and victory was likely assured as long as he eliminated El-Melloi before the three servants outside destroyed Caster. That put her in the unpleasant spot of rooting for a child murderer, at least insomuch as she wanted Gilles de Rais to hold out for as long as possible before being killed, but such was life in her business and she couldn't afford to let sentiment cloud her judgment. Especially not now, not when she had a chance to help make Kiritsugu's wish come true.

"And Assassin?" she inquired, wondering about the one true unknown in tonight's events.

"There's been no sign of Assassin or his master, Kotomine Kirei, but that doesn't mean anything where the Servant of the Shadows is concerned," Irisviel muttered unhappily. "Much as I'd like to believe otherwise, my family's bounded fields aren't up to the task of detecting—let alone barring—Assassin's entry, and I don't even know what to look for other than a vague physical description, a skull mask, and a noble phantasm that apparently lets him fake his own death. Kotomine, on the other hand...I'll know the moment he steps foot on the estate if he comes, and I'll notify you immediately if he does. That is one man...we cannot let my husband meet under any circumstances."

The homunculus frowned worriedly at that possibility. Kotomine, El-Melloi, and Tohsaka were the three most formidable masters in this war in her husband's estimation, but Kotomine was the only one who truly frightened him. The young priest was an opaque mystery to her husband, a man whose reasons and motivations he could not even guess at, and his combat experience rivaled Kiritsugu's own. Kiritsugu hadn't said as much, but Irisviel knew her husband had doubts that he could defeat Kotomine in battle. That, more than anything else, informed her of the threat the man posed, and the homunculus was determined to do everything she could to protect her husband from the Church's executor.

Irisviel suddenly winced in vicarious pain, and she immediately returned the crystal ball's display to the fire salamander which had finally broken free of its constraints in a burst of monstrous strength. The enraged beast breathed a gout of flame so hot the fire emerged from its gullet a dazzling white and turned, bathing the entire room in flame and transforming it into an inferno in seconds. Hastily, Irisviel commanded the crystal ball to show her another room nearby, and she quietly chanted an aria as a drawer inside the image opened and a spool of metal thread unwound and shaped itself into another golem.

Maiya let her companion be as she turned her own attention back to the video screen monitors in the room. Volumen Hydragyrum's tendrils were still searching and had triggered over a dozen traps, but the mystic code quickly recovered from any damage it took. Nails and shrapnel passed through it harmlessly, acid sloughed off it, and setting it on fire only spread more flames throughout the castle. The mystic code simply adapted to any obstacle it encountered and continued unthinkingly forward. It was only a matter of time before it found Kiritsugu, and when it did the Magus Killer and Lord El-Melloi would finally come face-to-face.

 _Kiritsugu…be careful_ , Maiya thought, fully aware that Irisviel was thinking the same thing and only slightly bitter because of that.

* * *

Irisviel had not overstated Assassin's abilities, and from the safety of his basement study Tohsaka Tokiomi calmly listened as his apprentice reported on both battles the Servant of the Shadows had been commanded to observe. Kirei's deep voice emerged strong and clear from the enchanted phonograph on Tokiomi's wooden desk, and the fire magus frowned sympathetically at the news of Lord El-Melloi's early difficulties inside the Einzbern mansion. Between Emiya and El-Melloi, he would prefer the latter to win this battle and not just because Lancer was the weaker servant. As a fellow member of the Mage's Association, Tokiomi held Lord El-Melloi and the man's bloodline in considerable esteem, and he knew the European magus valued his pride as a magus just as much if not even more than him. Lord El-Melloi would be an honorable and reasonable opponent if the two of them crossed paths. Still, Tokiomi also knew that such traits made Lord El-Melloi a poor match for Emiya's ruthlessness, and the man's desire for a direct confrontation with the Magus Killer struck Tokiomi as profoundly unwise.

"And what about the four servants? How goes their battle?" Tokiomi asked, steepling his hands together contemplatively as he changed the focus of Kirei's reporting. Regardless of whether Emiya or Lord El-Melloi won, both men were known quantities to him and could be overcome with appropriate countermeasures. Servants, on the other hand, were always full of surprises, and every new detail he learned about them strengthened his own hand.

There were several moments of silence on Kirei's end as the young priest looked at the world through the eyes of the female Assassin watching Saber, Lancer, and Berserker fight Caster and the madman's horde. He then reported his findings in the respectful, professional tone Tokiomi appreciated in his partner.

"Unchanged, although that in itself means the battle is shifting in favor of Caster's enemies. His failure to overwhelm the other servants with sheer numbers early on has given them the opportunity to analyze his one advantage and devise methods to counter it. If things remain as they are, it is only a matter of time before Saber, Lancer, and Berserker develop a suitable strategy and destroy him."

In line with his apprentice's usual perceptiveness, he answered Tokiomi's unspoken question before the fire magus asked it.

"Lancer has demonstrated no new powers or skills. His two spears and their curses appear to be the sole extent of his noble phantasms. Saber's ability to channel her magical energy and use it to enhance her defense is greater than we assumed, but otherwise she has given no indication of what her noble phantasm is. I speculate that the curse on her left hand prevents her from using it. Caster's command of otherworldly minions is a troublesome power, but he relies entirely on his grimoire for spellcasting. Without it, his formidability as a servant would be drastically curtailed. As for Berserker, her stats remain encrypted, but she is demonstrating low ranks of Mad Enhancement paired with the ability to cancel it. She also has remarkable regenerative abilities—of the three servants fighting Caster, she is the only one to have sustained more than minor injuries, but these heal within seconds. This could be her noble phantasm."

Tokiomi stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "A Berserker who can control her madness and heal her body in combat...that's a potent combination that could act as a partial counter to Archer's Gate of Babylon."

The fire magus frowned again, this time at the thought of his own arrogant servant. Were Archer less independent, Tokiomi would have sent him to join the battle at the Einzbern estate. The property was sufficiently far from the city that Archer could open his treasury as wide as he wanted and rain death upon all four servants gathered there without risk of collateral damage or witnesses. However, as things currently stood, the King of Heroes claimed to be so disgusted by the fools and mongrels that made up his competition that he haughtily refused to have anything to do with them and had stated his desire to let them wipe themselves out. The only way Tokiomi could compel his servant to do as he wished would be to use a command seal, and that would erode what little influence he had over Archer from his pretense of being an obedient vassal. For his ultimate purpose, it was better to let his servant continue roaming the city doing what a less polite mind would describe as "sulking" and keep his command seals in reserve for the end game.

"Keep a close eye on Kariya's servant, Kirei. Your father warned me to be cautious of the Matou in this war, and it seems his advice might be sounder than I first assumed," Tokiomi said at last as he dismissed his concerns about Archer. There would be time to address those later.

"Understood," was Kirei's simple reply, and both men returned to studying the battles taking place and mulling over their own private thoughts.

* * *

Emiya Kiritsugu watched on his laptop as Volumen Hydragyrum searched the castle for him. He assessed how much damage the assorted traps it triggered inflicted on the mystic code. He analyzed its strengths and weaknesses. He formulated a plan. He prepared. And he waited.

The Magus Killer did not wait long.

A pin-sized mercury tendril slid through the crack between the door to the study and the door frame. It extended for a full yard before pausing, sensing the vibrations in the air and a heat source that indicated a living, breathing human being. It then retracted, and Kiritsugu reached for his Calico M950 submachine gun and turned to the door expectantly. He turned around again a moment later when over a dozen blades of mercury slashed through the floor behind him and carved out a circular hole. The blades retracted, and in their place a dozen thin tentacles rose up and clutched the sides of the newly-made opening. The smirking head of Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald rose above the floor a second later, and the rest of his body quickly came into view as he stood atop the flat side of the multi-limbed half-dome Volumen Hydragyrum had morphed into as it lifted itself and its master high into the room.

"I found you at last, Emiya," the Association lord sneered as he looked down at his would-be murderer. "It's a shame it's come to this. With your fifth generation lineage, you could have become a respectable mage despite your father's sealing designation, but instead you've whored yourself out to the highest bidder and degraded yourself more than even the basest enforcer. Your ancestors must be—"

 _ **Ratatat-tat-tat!**_

Three of Volumen Hydragyrum's tentacles instantly rose up and spread themselves flat, merging to create a wall that blocked every bullet Kiritsugu fired as he squeezed the submachine gun's trigger. Assiduously, he adjusted his aim and fired across a broad section of the mercury barrier, seemingly probing for a weak spot.

"Fool! You can't defeat a true magus with a mere gun!" Kayneth shouted confidently from behind his shield. "It's hopeless!"

Kiritsugu paid Kayneth's boast no heed. With barely a second between actions, he sheathed his Calico with one hand, pulled out his more powerful, single-shot Thompson Contender with the other, and fired. The bullet slowed when it struck the mercury barrier but did not stop, and the Magus Killer experienced a moment of cold, ruthless satisfaction. Just as he'd deduced, Volumen Hydragyrum was an automated defense and couldn't adapt quickly enough to properly defend against a strong attack immediately following a weaker attack it had been "attuned" to. The Contender bullet penetrated the barrier a moment later, and Kiritsugu heard a guttural scream as the projectile tore into Kayneth's body.

"Argh! How...dare...you! Sculp!"

Volumen Hydragyrum immediately took the offensive upon receiving the raspy command, spawning several more whip-like tentacles and slashing at its master's enemy. Kiritsugu was ready, though, and activated his own magic.

"Time Alter, Double Accel."

The Magus Killer's form blurred as he leapt over, ducked under, side-stepped, and ran past the mercury lashes towards the hole his enemy had emerged from. Still moving at superhuman speeds, he dropped down the opening and dashed across the hallway below, rounded a corner, ran down another hallway, pressed his back against the next corner, and finally released the magic spell. He grit his teeth as the expected pain from time rebounding struck his body and, knowing it was only a matter of time before Volumen Hydragyrum followed him, he holstered his Contender, reloaded his Calico, and prepared himself. The tactic he'd used to penetrate Volumen Hydragyrum's defenses wouldn't work twice—Kayneth could overcome the shortcoming by reinforcing the mystic code with his own magic for maximum protection rather than relying on its automatic calibrations...which was _exactly_ what Kiritsugu hoped the European magus would do.

The seconds passed quickly, and Volumen Hydragyrum's slender tentacles soon rounded the corner into the hallway Kiritsugu had taken cover in. He reactivated his temporal manipulation magic the instant he sensed the mystic code's proximity but used the spell to the opposite effect, slowing his heartbeat and circulation to a crawl. The mystic code didn't have eyes or ears and, based on what he'd observed, it could only sense through touch and detecting changes in temperatures. He should be invisible to it if he made himself virtually indistinguishable from the environment around him.

The gambit worked. Volumen Hydragyrum's tentacles ignored him as the slender metallic limbs surged down the hallway. Kiritsugu, nearly choking from the effort of sustaining the spell, waited until his enemy rounded the corner before returning his body's flow of time to normal. Kayneth, his opposite hand applying pressure to a blood-stained left shoulder, gasped in surprise when he saw him, and for Kiritsugu the world snapped back into sharp focus as he took aim and fired his submachine gun again.

 _ **Ratatat-tat-tat!**_

Faster than the speeding bullets, Volumen Hydragyrum retracted its tendrils and reformed its standard barrier. However, to Kiritsugu's immense surprise, his Calico's bullets penetrated without meeting any resistance at all and continued freely through the other side. Kayneth emitted no cries of agony as the hail of bullets swarmed through where he should have been standing.

 _An illusion!_ , Kiritsugu realized and, acting on a combination of instinct and experience, immediately ran forward through the illusion himself. An instant later he heard the sound of a collapsing wall and several thin, sharp objects lashing through the space he had just occupied as Kayneth attempted to strike him from behind. He swung his arm back to fire distraction shots and turned his head to see where his enemy was. Instead, he saw a menagerie of mercury whips, silver columns, and glistening barriers. His bullets penetrated some and bounced off others, but illusion and reality were so thoroughly mixed together it was impossible for him to tell which was which. Cautiously, he released the trigger and took slow, guarded steps back. If Kayneth attacked he could use Time Alter to make another run for it, but, judging by the Association lord's actions so far, it seemed likelier that he would—

"You can't escape, vermin!" Kayneth's disembodied voice gloated. "With Mysinor's Eye of Illusion, I can make as many perfect doubles of myself and Volumen Hydragyrum as I wish. You're no match for the many mystic codes at my disposal, and I will make you _pay_ for shedding my blood! I'll heal your heart and lungs as I rip the flesh from your body to prolong the suffering! I'll assault your mind with terrors and force you to relive every tragic memory you possess until your will is broken! Your agony will be _legendary_ , and you will die cursing the Einzbern for hiring you and shaming the Holy Grail War!"

"You talk too much," the Magus Killer said simply as he grabbed a flash grenade from his black coat and tossed it at the overlapping jumble of illusionary and genuine threats. He muttered a quick spell to protect his ears and eyes from the ensuing bang and flash of blinding light and simultaneously raised his right hand. If he couldn't discern where his opponent was, he'd bring in someone who could.

"Saber, by the power of this command seal, I order you to appear before me and strike down my enemy!"

* * *

Outside the Einzbern castle in the surrounding forest, an impasse had been reached. Wave after wave of otherworldly abominations crashed and broke against the bloodstained weapons of the Servants of the Sword, the Spear, and Madness. Excalibur, resplendent even hidden by its invisible shroud and coated by alien ichor, cleaved through demon after demon with swift, powerful swings. Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg flashed lethally through the night, yellow and red flickers all but impossible to see as they skewered foes and inflicted fatal wounds. Blue cutlasses flew out of their owner's hands and impaled enemies, nailing tentacles to the ground and tearing through the hungry, gaping maws. The three heroes were unassailable, an ancient cliff standing defiantly against the ever-present, onrushing ocean.

Conversely, the water demons summoned by the Servant of the Spell were endless. They died by the dozens and the scores, but, for every abomination that fell, another rose from the ruined flesh and joined the battle. Untiring, relentless, and completely unafraid of death, over a hundred of these alien monsters swarmed around the trio of knights and pressed their never-ending attack. They could not overcome their enemies, but through numbers and sheer ferociousness they could keep the three heroes locked in place, unable to break out of the encirclement and strike down the madman who commanded the horrific horde.

"Ha! Do you realize it now? There's a limit to the number even superior skill can overcome!" Caster taunted, his bulging black eyes nearly popping out of his head as he watched the deadlocked struggle gleefully. "It's only a matter of time now! You'll make a mistake eventually, and when you do...Hahaha!"

"Shut up!" Berserker yelled, hurling a cutlass at him like a makeshift spear as six more of the conjured blades dropped out of her cape and stuck into the earth around her. She made prompt use of all of them in the next few seconds, grabbing one to skewer a water demon that lunged at her, spinning to seize and throw two at one leaping above her, diving behind a fourth to block a tentacle, and then dual-wielding the fifth and sixth to mercilessly hack apart another enemy.

"We'll never lose to the likes of you, monster!"

Standing near Berserker, Saber shared a meaningful look with her other ally as she sliced through two attacking abominations. Much as she appreciated Berserker's bravado, Caster was right. One of them was bound to make a mistake before long, and from what she'd seen of the battle thus far the Servant of Madness was the likeliest candidate. The blue-haired warrior was strong and swift, but her technique lacked the expert finesse of someone who'd trained and fought all their lives as she and Lancer both had. And with the Berserker class's infamous penchant for recklessness...well, it didn't take a tactical genius to see what a dangerous combination that made. The three of them needed to end this battle soon before Caster ended it for them.

Lancer sensed her intent and retreated closer to his allies until the three servants stood nearly back-to-back. His voice lowered, the Irish knight whispered the question on everyone's mind.

"Any thoughts on how to destroy Caster's spellbook? I had thought we could simply fight our way through to him, but these foul beasts are more tenacious than I expected."

Out of the corner of her green eyes, Saber saw a strange uneasiness cross Berserker's face before the blue-haired servant quashed it. Briefly, the Servant of the Sword wondered what tentative plan had crossed Berserker's mind, but she knew this was not the time to probe. She had a tactic of her own whose success she was highly confident of, and only if it didn't succeed would she need to broach whatever desperate gambit had occurred to Berserker.

"Yes," Saber answered quietly, gripping her sword tightly. "Lancer, if I create an opening, can you ride the wind?"

Lancer immediately understood her meaning and smiled gamely, simultaneously spearing another two water demons that scuttled too close. "You speak to one who journeyed to the Otherworld and back. Compared to that, what you propose is a simple task. Just let me know when you're ready, Saber."

"Good. I'm counting on you, then." Saber inclined her head at Berserker next. "Caster's minions should collapse after Lancer destroys his spellbook. When they do, I need you to rush forward and strike him down. I'll cover you as best I can."

The Servant of Madness grinned eagerly. "You can depend on me, Saber. This madman won't escape justice."

"Excellent," she said, feeling the bad luck and misfortune of the night finally begin to shift in her favor. "Then on my mar—"

Saber suddenly vanished in a flash of light, and Lancer and Berserker both exchanged a puzzled look.

"What the—"

"NOOO! How dare her unworthy master summon my Jeanne back to his accursed side before I'd made her awaken! I'll kill him! Kill him kill him kill him!"

Berserker frowned. "Wait, if Emiya summoned Saber to his side, then won't El-Melloi—"

Lancer, having just enough time to glance at his partner apologetically, disappeared in a similar flash of light in the next second, confirming the Servant of Madness's prediction...and leaving her alone in the forest with an army of alien abominations and an enraged Caster.

"Damn."


	7. Ch6 - What Am I Fighting For?

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Six – What Have I Been Fighting for All This Time?

Saber materialized inside the Einzbern castle in a flash of golden light and suppressed an angry curse at being forced to abandon her allies on the battlefield. Such honorless conduct went against everything the King of Knights stood for! Still, with her master behind her and his command to strike down his enemy ringing inviolate in her mind, Saber put aside her chagrin and immediately stepped forward into the damaged hallway filled with illusions of El-Melloi and his fluidic mystic code. She narrowed her green eyes as she took a second step, assessing each and every possible target in a single instant as she readied her sword for combat. And then she sprang into action.

 _ **Whoosh!-Swish!-Whoosh!-Swish!-Swish!**_

Excalibur flashed as the air it sliced through shrieked cacophonously. Once, twice, thrice, and a dozen times more the Sword of Promised Victory rose and fell, effortlessly cutting apart every false apparition that stood between the King of Knights and her target as she raced down the hallway. There was no mistaking the expression of absolute terror on the true Kayneth's face as the blonde knight neared and raised her holy blade to deliver a final, fatal blow, but Volumen Hydragyrum—moving nearly as fast—reconsolidated in its metallic entirety and rose up to protect its master with all the considerable defensive strength the mystic code could project.

It wasn't enough. Volumen Hydragyrum may have been one of the finest mystic codes of magecraft's modern era and the epitome of fluidic magecraft, but the Sword of Promised Victory was a divine weapon forged by fairies and crystallized from mankind's wishes. Volumen Hydragyrum didn't stand a chance against such a creation, and Excalibur sliced through the mystic code with the effortlessness of a hot knife through butter. Kayneth's prized mystic code barely slowed the holy sword by a fraction of a second before it broke apart and collapsed into a pile of inert mercury...but that miniscule delay provided just enough time for Lancer to finish his own materialization. With an impossible speed only made reality by his master's urgent command to protect him, the Irish knight thrust Gae Buidhe up to stop Excalibur. Sparks flew as the two magic weapons collided a scant few inches from the terrified magus's neck, and the two servants exchanged a sorrowful look.

"I have been commanded to kill your master, and you have been commanded to defend him," Saber stated quietly, her green eyes apologetic. "These commands are irreconcilable."

Lancer nodded his head mournfully. His Eye of the Mind skill gave him nearly peerless insight into battles, but he did not need it to know where this conversation and conflict were going.

"And while we fight, our ally battles Caster and the madman's army alone," he stated somberly as his orange eyes briefly glanced in the forest's direction. He sighed. "With things as they are now, there is only one way to return to the battlefield and aid her."

The King of Knights abruptly disengaged from her opponent and stepped back. Quickly, she released her two-handed grip on her sword to offer the Irish Knight a respectful salute with her left hand before she returned it to the holy blade's hilt.

"Then do not hold back, Lancer. For Berserker's sake, do not hold back," Saber beseeched him intently. "The longer this duel continues, the less time the victor will have to rescue our ally. Fight well and with honor, First Warrior of the Knights of Fianna."

"And you as well, Arturia Pendragon, the once and future King of England," Lancer answered in kind as he raised his two legendary spears in preparation for battle. "This isn't the duel I wished for, but fighting you...is and always will be an unrivaled honor."

Regal green eyes gazed into seasoned orange and communicated everything the Servants of the Sword and Spear needed to know. There was no enmity or reluctance when they both rushed forward in the very next instant on the same unspoken cue and attacked with all their skill, speed, and strength. There was only regret that this battle could not be under better, nobler circumstances, without an ally's life at stake in a desperate race against the clock. Because for Berserker, Saber and Lancer both knew, time was running out.

* * *

 _ **Swish!-Swish!-Swish!-Whoosh!**_

The battlefield lit up in a typhoon of blue steel and magic as the sounds of a roaring ocean and screeching violin drowned out all other noise. A second later, all was crimson and agonized alien screams instead as an azure streak surged and zigzagged madly about with twin cutlasses out, dashing apart over a dozen water demons so quickly their deaths appeared nearly instantaneous. Blood and gore splashed everywhere, adding another layer of coagulating ichor to the already cruor-stained ground as the rushing wave of swords crested and petered out, disgorging an exhausted and frantic-eyed Sayaka. For a brief moment she stood alone, hands clenched with superhuman strength around the hilts of her cutlasses, panting heavily like a wild animal, and surrounded on all sides by monstrous corpses. And then, those corpses twitched and fermented in the throes of inhuman regeneration as dozens more of Caster's eldritch minions hissed from further back and scuttled forward through the slaughter. Sayaka's short respite was over, and as she watched the horde descend on her something in her bright, ocean-blue eyes darkened.

 _~Hey...is this world even worth protecting?~_

The corners of Sayaka's mouth lifted in an intimation of a savage smile as she drew upon greater reserves of power to strengthen her body. Then, as the first wave of her enemies came within striking distance, she swung her arms out to her sides and spun like a whirlpool, the edges of her cutlasses limned in blue light that traced their rapid rotation. Blood sprayed and tentacles fell, but the eldritch legion continued their frenzied advance, pressing in against their quarry and each other as they clambered forward, heedless of pain, injury, and death.

A second away from being overwhelmed, Sayaka abruptly changed tactics and lunged forward, impaling the nearest water demon with the cutlass in her left hand and then using her superhuman strength to lift the alien beast into the air. Turning, she viciously smashed the skewered monster against the nearest of its brethren, reversed herself to repeat the blunt, savage attack, and then hurled both beast and blade at the next enemy as she cavorted under and around grasping tentacles into the small space she'd just cleared. She tapped her free hand against the ground, and a stockade of swords materialized up out of the earth behind her, momentarily shielding her from one direction as she focused on the others. However, the moment passed even faster than Sayaka had feared it would. The blockade buckled and broke under the teeming mass pressing against it, and the demonic legion surged forward from all around her and even from above as over a dozen launched themselves into the air with their tentacles and then descended upon their prey like nightmares falling from the night sky. Sayaka had time to chuckle once, the sound wry and crooked, and then the eldritch legion finally swept over her.

 _~What have I been fighting for all this time?~_

Skin tore and bones broke as the closest water demons tackled her, smashing her into the ground and grappling her body with their tentacles. They lifted her up like an offering to a dark god and _pulled_ as more of them clambered over each other and on top of her, burying Sayaka from above and below in a pyramid of alien anatomy. Crushed by their weight, lacerated by their tentacles, and choking on her own blood, Sayaka remained doggedly defiant even as her vision filled entirely with red. Twisting and contorting her mangled but unbroken body, she forced herself lower until she managed to place a single foot on the ground. A blue spell circle immediately flared into existence, shimmering and shrieking with dozens of violin twills.

 _ **Zin!**_

The alien ziggurat burst apart as a physically restored Sayaka shot up into the air like a geyser, dragging half a dozen water demons latched onto her body behind her like a nightmarish comet's tail. She raised her left hand, and a second spell circle appeared above her, stopping her ascent. A cutlass materialized in her right hand, and she spun, slashing apart her would-be captors as momentum carried them past her. Then, both spell circles flashed and detonated, and Sayaka returned to earth with the force of a falling star. Agonized eldritch screams resounded throughout the forest as Sayaka crashed into the ranks of the otherworldly horde and summoned a second sword to resume her desperate offensive. She would not— _could not_ —stop. If she paused for even a single moment the water demons would overwhelm her. All she could do was kill. Kill. KILL.

 _~Tell me.~_

"Yes, that's it! Fight! Rend! Maim! Tear!" Caster shouted crazily, offering encouragement to friend and foe alike as new water demons spawned from the slain and rushed to join the frenzy. Outnumbered by more than one hundred to one, Berserker had to know that her battle was hopeless, but the blue-haired girl defiantly fought on in a futile, gory spectacle. And to Gilles de Rais's insane eyes, every moment was absolutely beautiful.

 _~You, right now.~_

The demented servant applauded as Berserker slashed apart another water demon, dashed through its body as the two halves fell apart, and cleaved another as she came out the other side coated in crimson blood. His bulging black eyes widened further in appreciation as he observed every detail of the vicious battle, and his crazed grin grew until it nearly split his face. He could _see_ the sanctimonious righteousness in Berserker's azure eyes dim as vengeful fury and bloodlust took its place. He could _see_ her rationality and humanity degrade as she descended into the savage mindset of a cornered, angry beast. Soon, there would be no difference between the monster slayer and the monsters she fought, and Caster hungered for that moment. For an artist like him, Berserker succumbing fully to her madness was a masterpiece in the making!

 _~Tell me.~_

...Still, something wasn't quite _right_. Caster was a veteran soldier who had fought on the bloody battlefields of the Hundred Years' War, and with his attention obsessively fixated on the Servant of Madness he could tell there was something off about the way she fought. He wouldn't have noticed it normally, but with her receiving and recovering from so many injuries in rapid succession it slowly became clear to him. She wasn't reacting to pain at all and, stranger yet, fought as if her injuries made no difference to her! It was as though her mind was completely detached from her body, immune to whatever damage it suffered and controlling it like a puppet. That wasn't how servants functioned, though, and it didn't make sense unless—

 _~Or else, I'll...~_

A thought occurred to the Servant of the Spell, and he focused on the darkening hue of the gem on Berserker's midriff with new scrutiny. Prelati's Spellbook opened and turned to a page seemingly of its own will in his hands, and Caster looked down at the blasphemous text and chanted the words to the identification spell the arcane tome showed him. And then he smiled horrifically in understanding. So _that_ was it! _That_ was Berserker's secret! What a terrible, heretical, sinful, _wonderful_ thing!

Caster laughed madly, ecstatic beyond words, as the battle continued in front of him and the demonic corpses surrounding Berserker grew ever greater. He no longer cared about defeating her and having his minions feast on her body. This battle was no longer about that. Instead, he wanted to see her lovely, beautiful, heroic _soul_ sink into the depths of darkness and corruption until its noble light was utterly replaced by blackness. He wanted to see her _fall_ so far and so fully that not even God could rescue her! He wanted her to become so monstrous and defiled that his love would finally— _finally!_ —acknowledge the ugly truth of this world and turn her back on the cruel deity who had abandoned her!

 _Just you wait, Jeanne!_ , Caster thought with demented devotion. _I'll make you see the truth even if I have to murder every soul in this city! It will be my gift to you—I promise!—so, please, wait for me until then! It's only a matter of time now..._

* * *

Inside the Einzbern castle, Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was beyond furious. Emiya had insulted and shamed him— _him_ , a Lord of the Clock Tower!—and defamed the proud traditions of magecraft with his abominable conduct. The damned, infuriating, ignominious _idiot_! Didn't the fool understand that the protocols of the Clock Tower existed for a reason? That without the standards and principles that had been carefully crafted and refined over centuries of study and practice, the whole world of mages would backslide into degenerate chaos and unenlightened hedge wizardry? This battle was no longer about avenging his honor or adding a tale of martial prowess to his many illustrious accomplishments; no, now it was a public _service_! He'd remove Emiya's blight on the world of magecraft with such extreme prejudice that the example of Emiya's folly would be heeded for generations!

The blond magus's left shoulder throbbed, interrupting his mental tirade and evincing a wince. Frustrated at both the reminder of his injury by a _mundane_ bullet and the failure of his hastily applied healing magecraft to fully cure the wound, Kayneth narrowed his green eyes and took stock of the battlefield. The hallway he and Emiya shared with the two servants they commanded was festooned with gaping holes, sword slashes, and spear marks. Had the Einzbern not enhanced the structure with magic, Kayneth held little doubt that the floor and ceiling would have both caved in by now.

Meanwhile, seemingly heedless of the damage they were causing and only a few yards in front him, Lancer and Saber fought with such swiftness even Kayneth's magically reinforced eyes couldn't follow their movements. The clanging of their weapons striking each other was nearly deafening, and both had inflicted several superficial wounds on the other. His servant was performing _adequately_ and seemed to possess a slight advantage with his dual weapons and faster speed, but the enclosed space of the hallway constrained his movements.

Most vexing of all in Kayneth's mind, though, was Emiya's continued existence as he stood several yards behind his own servant and calmly watched the battle with impunity, his face an expressionless mask as he intermittently aimed small arms fire at Kayneth. Lancer easily stopped the ammunition from reaching his master, but deflecting ordnance was a distraction the Irish knight could ill afford while fighting Saber. Kayneth's own attempts to annihilate Emiya with spells had even less effect as Saber loyally interposed herself and let her damnably high magic resistance snuff them all out. So long as the Servants of the Sword and the Spear fought in front of them, he and the Magus Killer might as well not even be here.

Hmmm...Well, that could be changed easily enough.

 _Lancer, drive Saber away when I give the word. This began as a duel between mages, and it will_ _ **end**_ _as a duel between mages when I remind Emiya how a true magus fights_ , Kayneth ordered as he contemplated how best to perform the long overdue deed. Volumen Hydragyrum, his finest mystic code, was too damaged— _Damn Emiya!_ —to reactivate and would take weeks to repair, and Mysinor's Eye needed time to recharge. He still possessed several more Mystic Codes and knew many more spells with combat applications, but he'd need a new defense to counter the Magus Killer's disgusting choice of weapons. Perhaps it was time to utilize Mage Armor of the Sorcerer King? The mystic code's operating costs were exorbitant—an ounce of gold for every attack it blocked—but it was his best alternative to Volumen Hydragyrum and—

 _My lord, are you sure that's prudent?_ , Lancer thought back cautiously. _I commend your desire for an honorable duel with your enemy, but Emiya neither deserves nor is entitled to such courtesy. Let me, instead, defeat Saber in front of your eyes and kill her master for you to prove that you are the superior magus by having summoned the superior servant!_

 _Don't question my orders, Lancer!_ , Kayneth retorted harshly, irritated at the interruption of his thoughts and his servant's perceived backtalk. _You are a servant, and your only purpose is to obey your master! Besides, after your_ _ **tawdry**_ _performance last night at the docks, I have more confidence in my ability to defeat Emiya than I do in yours to destroy Saber in a timely manner. This isn't some fanciful bard's tale for fame-seeking heroes. This is a war between magi, and it is long past time that all the masters were reminded of this. Or do you_ _ **doubt**_ _the power of your sworn lord?_

 _No, never!_ , Lancer answered immediately with the unwaveringly blind loyalty that earned him Kayneth's contempt and caused the Association lord to question his servant's motives. Anyone that dutiful, Kayneth believed, truly was nothing more than a familiar bound to its master's will or was hiding ambitions of his own, and considering how enamored Sola-Ui had become of Lancer...Kayneth wouldn't be surprised if the Irish knight wanted to defeat both Saber and the Magus Killer to impress his fiancée and deprive him of the prestige of victory. That was something Kayneth's pride would not allow.

 _Then do as your master commands, Lancer. When I give the order, push Saber back so I can fight Emiya without interference. Or will that be too_ _ **difficult**_ _for you?_ , Kayneth mentally sneered, knowing from the silence that followed that he'd browbeat his servant into obedience. Satisfied, he then returned his full attention to the battle and watched for more than a minute as Lancer and Saber continued their high-speed clash. Lancer, despite his many boasts about his skill, would need time to set this up, and Kayneth wanted to have all his own actions planned out in advance to deprive the Magus Killer of any further opportunities to surprise him. Finally, the blond mage sensed that everything was ready, and he prepared to give the mental command—

—Only to come up short in surprise as the Magus Killer suddenly turned, ran down the hallway, and disappeared behind a corner.

 _Blast it!_ , Kayneth cursed as his fists clenched angrily and his eyebrows furrowed. Only his sense of dignity prevented him from yelling obscenities, and, with great effort, he mastered his seething fury. Rash actions were _beneath_ a magus of his standing, and this was the Magus Killer's own home. Running after him without a plan would be absolute folly. No, if he wanted to defeat the Magus Killer—and right now that desire ranked even higher in Lord El-Melloi's mind than disciplining his treacherous student—he needed to outthink the damnable gnat and utilize his own strengths rather than play to his enemy's.

 _Lancer, your task just become simpler. Keep Saber here while I track down and eliminate Emiya. I will not tolerate her interference again, so don't fail me!_

Lancer remained silent, which was as good as agreement in Kayneth's mind, and the Association lord turned and walked down his end of the corridor. The sounds of Lancer and Saber's duel behind him echoed loudly as he disappeared around the bend of the first corner and, maintaining a calm, confident pace, continued deeper into the mansion. As he walked he reached into one of his overcoat's pockets and pulled out a gold pocket compass bound by an iron chain. Holding the navigational instrument in front of him, he pressed down on the top button to spring open the lid. Instantly, hundreds of tiny motes of white light billowed up from the compass face and aggregated into a shimmering globe half a meter in diameter.

"Find Emiya Kiritsugu," Kayneth ordered tersely, and the lights lingered just long enough to retrieve the mental image of their quarry from the blond magus's memories before shooting apart in all possible directions. The lights passed through every solid object in their paths as if they were intangible, and Kayneth smiled thinly in satisfaction at his own craftsmanship. The motes were proto-spirits, evoked and bound for the single purpose of seeking, and it would not take them long to locate the Magus Killer. And when they did...

Kayneth's smile widened vindictively, and he began to quietly intone several arcane verses. When they did find him, Emiya Kiritsugu would finally regret his folly.

* * *

Emiya Kiritsugu raced through the hallways of the Einzbern mansion, the ends of his black trench coat flaring out behind him as he pressed his left index finger against the earbud in his corresponding ear and listened intently to Maiya as she relayed El-Melloi's present location. Volumen Hydragyrum had already been this way and rendered his traps useless, so he could focus fully on running and getting into his desired position before his enemy caught up with him. The Magus Killer had no doubts that El-Melloi would find him quickly. The man was too prepared not to have a few tracking spells ready outside Volumen Hydragyrum's own abilities, and, although Kiritsugu could take countermeasures, his current plan depended on him _being_ found.

 _The hunted can also be the hunter_ , he thought dispassionately, remembering a piece of advice his teacher and the woman who'd been like a second mother to him, Natalia Kaminski, had shared long before her untimely death at his own hands. Using oneself as bait was merely another tactic to be employed when appropriate, and if El-Melloi had been cleverer he'd have done the same by remaining inside the Hyatt while sending Lancer and Berserker to harass him. Instead, the mage had abandoned the defensive stronghold of his magic atelier and come to him, putting himself at unnecessary risk merely for the sake of pride. Such behavior disgusted Kiritsugu, and he briefly wondered if El-Melloi had even considered that he might die tonight.

"Kiritsugu, be careful. El-Melloi has activated another mystic code. It looks like a ball of lights and—They're searching for you right now, and El-Melloi is casting a new spell."

The Magus Killer nodded as he rounded another corner and stopped in front of a wall bearing a portrait of Irisviel's father and the current head of the Einzbern family, Jubstacheit von Einzbern. The painting was exquisite; Kiritsugu could almost feel the bearded old man's stern gaze peer directly at him, evaluating him and weighing his worth. He was not looking forward to meeting those cold eyes again after the war was over, knowing that he'd see approval in them for sacrificing his wife and uncertain if he could restrain himself from lashing out, even for Ilya's sake. At least he wouldn't have to put up with this portrait for much longer.

Kiritsugu turned away when a stream of white lights flew out of the wall behind him. Facing the glowing motes, he noted that they brightened and slowed as they neared him before stopping entirely and fluttering radiantly. He didn't need to hear Maiya's warning to anticipate what was coming next.

"Time Alter, Double Accel."

 _ **BWOOOOOOM!**_

The only thing that saved the Magus Killer from ionization by lightning was his preemptive lunge to the side before the massive arc of electricity left El-Melloi's hands and blasted through half a dozen rooms and hallways. The lightning bolt missed him by mere inches but still scorched his back as it continued past him, smashed through Jubstacheit's portrait and the wall it was hanging on, and careened into the next room...which happened to be on fire and contain a flame salamander battling an avian thread golem.

"RAAAARRRGGGHHH!"

The elemental's scream of agony was loud enough that Kiritsugu instinctively raised his hands to cover his ears. He then ducked and rolled as the room behind him exploded in a giant fireball. The hallway was the next to go as the giant blossom of flame spread, and the Magus Killer pulled out his Calico as he ran through the new, lightning-formed corridor directly at his target. El-Melloi's face was a rictus of rage at the destruction of yet another mystic code, but his lips continued moving as he chanted quiet words of power. Kiritsugu fired, and purple, hexagonal barriers materialized one yard in front of the Association lord to block each and every bullet. Having confirmed that this was the true Lord El-Melloi and not another illusion, the Magus Killer discarded his submachine gun and reached for his Thompson—

"Sanguinis, derigesco! Aqua, conglacio!"

El-Melloi struck first with his spell, and Kiritsugu reeled as the water in his blood suddenly froze, transforming into ice crystals that punctured his blood vessels, mangled his internal organs, and starved his body of oxygen. Still, he stubbornly continued reaching for his Thompson Contender, blocking out the pain as his hand disappeared inside his coat. He just needed one more second—

 _ **BOOOOSH!**_

The heat and flames behind him finally caught up and lashed into his back, sending him tumbling. His right hand remained inside his coat, and he felt his fingers close around the rifle's handle as the floor beneath him began to give way. El-Melloi solved that problem for him as he finished chanting another spell and slammed both hands, palm down, onto the wooden floor in front of him. Spears of ice instantly shot up beside, behind, and through the Magus Killer, impaling his body on half a dozen deadly lances and forming an impromptu wall against the fireball's remaining force.

"Disgraceful idiot," he heard El-Melloi comment contemptuously as his vision began to go dark. "This is completely lacking in elegance, but at least there's a fitting irony in blood magic ultimately doing you in, the heir of a five generation bloodline who abandoned his heritage. It'll make a good moral when I write this chapter in my memoir."

There was the sound of footsteps as the Association lord turned away and raised the hand with his two remaining command seals in front of his face. That was the last thing Kiritsugu saw before his eyes closed, and then—

 _Time stretched on as Kiritsugu and Irisviel held each other inside the Einzbern mansion, anchoring one another and cherishing these moments as only those who knew such moments would be among their last could. Kiritsugu wanted nothing more than to remain in his wife's loving embrace forever—Grail War and the rest of mankind be damned!—but he knew his duty. After sacrificing so many lives to save others, he could not walk away when he finally had the opportunity to eliminate all strife forever, no matter what it cost him. Reluctantly, he let go of his wife and rose to stand. Irisviel's arms, however, lingered around his chest as she pressed her face against his back._

 _"Kiri, can you make me a promise before you fight Lord El-Melloi tonight?"_

 _Kiritsugu looked down at his wife's arms and placed his hands over hers affectionately, but his expression was troubled. "I can't promise anything. There are no guarantees in war...but I'll do what I can for you."_

 _"Ah, my love, I do appreciate your honesty," she spoke softly. "So let me reciprocate. I want you to take Avalon with you tonight. You'll need it more than me."_

 _Startled by the request, Kiritsugu turned to face his wife. "Iri...no. You are more valuable to the war—to_ _ **me**_ _—than anything else, and everything will have been meaningless if you die before...before..." He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say it._

 _"Hush," his wife murmured comfortingly. "It'll be all right. I'm your wife, and it's my job to take care of you. You will carry Avalon with you tonight for your safety, and once you've defeated Lord El-Melloi you will return it to me. It's as simple as that, and I won't take no for an answer. I want you to live, Kiri. The Grail War means nothing to me if your wish isn't the one I grant, so don't take unnecessary risks to keep me safe. We either win this war together, or we ensure no one does."_

—Kiritsugu's eyes snapped open again as the healing magic of Avalon, the mystic sheath of the holy sword Excalibur, coursed through his body, stabilizing him and keeping him alive despite the daggers of ice impaling his body. Kayneth was facing away from him, communicating with his servant and proclaiming his victory, and the Magus Killer felt a cold smile grace his lined features at the premature announcement.

"Lancer, I've dealt with Saber's master. Defeat her now, _if_ you can, or endure for a few more minutes. Victory will be yours either way thanks to me."

"You...still talk too much," Kiritsugu rasped, and Kayneth immediately turned at the sound of his enemy's voice, his green eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

" _How?_ There's no way you can still be alive! It's—"

Kayneth didn't have time to finish as a reformed avian thread golem suddenly smashed through the ice wall and knocked the Magus Killer free from the frozen lances piercing his body. Kiritsugu was sent sprawling to the ground as the metal golem continued its flight and dove straight for the Association lord. Kayneth was too stunned to do anything else except defend, and Irisviel's alchemical creation crashed into the purple hexagonal barrier of the blond magus's mystic code. Seeing his carefully planned opening, Kiritsugu pulled his Thompson Contender out of his coat, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

"Bang."

A single shot exited the firearm, and Kayneth desperately channeled all of his considerable arcane power into his mystic code's defensive barrier, just as the Magus Killer had anticipated. Mage Armor of the Sorcerer King's hexagonal shield flashed and fizzled as the bullet penetrated, and Kayneth frantically reinforced his body next as he raised a magically strengthened arm in front of the bullet's trajectory. The limb fared no better than the mystic code and didn't even slow the projectile as it plowed through flesh and bone and emerged on the other side still seeking the magus's head. Kayneth had time to experience a single moment of utter terror before that was eclipsed by even greater agony as the magic circuits in his extended arm severed and catastrophically binded back together. And then the bullet tore through his skull, instantly—some, those who knew what the Magus Killer's origin bullets did to a mage, might say mercifully—killing him. He plopped over backwards, his mouth open in a silent "O" of utter incredulity, as his crimson blood ran out and pooled underneath him. Irisviel's golem landed on his chest a second later and checked for a heartbeat. It shook its head in the negative after a short moment.

Kiritsugu remained silent in triumph, seeing no reason to celebrate over a single battle and another man's death when the only victory that mattered was at the war's end. Instead, he grunted as he rolled over and pulled the broken lances of ice out of his body. He grit his teeth at the pain, but the discomfort passed quickly as Avalon's healing magic coursed through him and he stood back up. The fairy sheath was a noble phantasm in its own right for all intents and purposes, capable of healing any wound short of decapitation. With it inside his body, he would be completely restored in seconds.

Unfortunately for the Magus Killer, those were seconds he did not have.

"Caw!"

The golem's surprised cry was the only warning Kiritsugu received as a stream of grayish black sand suddenly poured out from Lord El-Melloi's coat and blanketed the hallway floor. The caliginous grains rose up and pulsed with black light, shrouding the entire corridor and everything inside with complete opacity. Kiritsugu had no opportunity to escape, and when the darkness faded a few seconds later and the particles of sand fell back to the floor he fell down with them.

The thread golem anxiously fluttered over to him and, as it had done moments before with Kayneth, landed on his chest to check for a heartbeat. Irisviel's relief when she felt her husband's chest rise and fall steadily through her construct's talons was almost visible on the golem's face, but Kiritsugu's eyes remained shut. Unconsciousness had once again claimed the Magus Killer, and this time it refused to let go.

* * *

Lancer was winning. His sibling spears, the yellow and crimson roses, flashed ferociously across the battlefield as he advanced upon Saber unremittingly. The invisible Excalibur rose and fell just as rapidly as the King of Knights parried, dodged, and attempted to regain the initiative, but Lancer refused to give her that chance. His sharp orange eyes and sharper mind watched her intently, gauging her blade's length, predicting its path, and preempting her own stratagems with his own. He had her on the defensive now and controlled the ebb and flow of battle, and the key to his victory, he knew, was to give Saber no opportunity to retaliate until his relentless assault finally broke through her guard and he struck a decisive blow. Admittedly, Lancer also knew he would be having a much harder time were his opponent's left hand not crippled, but he had inflicted the wound in an honest duel and the handsome Irish knight saw no reason to feel shame because of it.

The three legendary weapons continued their intricate dance, a fierce triple staccato as Saber reluctantly ceded ground to Lancer. The walls in the hallway around them had long since given up any semblance of being intact, and only the magical reinforcement the corridor's builders had imbued them with kept the walls from crumbling as the two servants battled. The roar of a faraway explosion reached the two of them, but neither could afford to pay it any attention. They both kept their full sights on each other until, to them, it seemed as though no one else existed in the whole world, and Lancer felt his lips quirk up in a wry smile. If only his own life could have been this simple and elegant.

The moment passed, and Saber brought Excalibur down hard and fast. The invisible blade came within a millimeter of Lancer's head and sheared off several strands of the Irish knight's black hair. He swung Gae Buidhe against the holy blade and narrowed his eyes as effervescent sparks flew wildly. And then, he lashed out with his right foot, interdicting it between Saber's legs, and thrust low and blindingly fast with Gae Dearg. Saber was quick enough to avoid a serious injury as the crimson rose of exorcism passed effortlessly through her enchanted armor, but the anti-magic spear still succeeded in drawing blood just above the calf of her right foot as she contorted her body, reversed the thrust of her own blade, spun, and swung. Lancer leaned aside and stepped back just as rapidly to protect himself against her deadly strike, and he saw in his mind's eye that victory would be his in the next exchange. Saber was now slowed in addition to crippled, and all he needed to do was overwhelm and finish her.

And then Lancer, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne and First Warrior of the Knights of Fianna, felt his master die, and all his plans and stratagems came crashing down. In their place came a horribly familiar grief and the knowledge that he had a terrible choice to make. The lord he had sworn his loyalty and service to, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, was dead. Honor demanded he avenge him, and he could avenge him right here and now. He only needed to engage Saber one more time to defeat her, to kill her outright or inflict a wound with Gae Buidhe that would inevitably achieve the same result. From there, if he was lucky—far luckier than he normally was—he might still have enough time to murder her master, Emiya, before Gaia purged him from this world as a supernatural existence that did not belong.

Honor, however, also demanded he return to Berserker. She was a sworn ally, and with his master dead there was no mystical restraint preventing him from going to her. Every second counted, and even if he was not long for this world he might still have enough time to create an opening for her to escape. If he continued fighting Saber and hunted her master, though, he'd never make it to her in time.

To avenge the fallen...or save the living. His Eye of the Mind skill served more as a curse than a blessing in this moment, allowing Lancer to see every option available to him and weigh the competing demands on his honor in a single, terrible instant. And in that same instant, the words he had spoken to the young swordswoman earlier this day came back to him.

 _When codes of honor conflict...sometimes you have to choose one and do what you feel is most right._

Lancer made his choice, turned away from Saber, and ran.

 _My lord, I am sorry._

* * *

Sayaka was cold.

A serrated tentacle slammed into her side and sent her sprawling into the horrific embrace of the water demon behind her. Its several limbs seized her by her arms and legs, lifted her into the air, and _pulled_ , seeking to rip her body apart as the mottled red and purple abomination opened its teeth-filled maw wide to devour the rest. Instead, Sayaka contorted her wrists, dropped her swords, grabbed two of the tentacles with her bare hands, and brutally _squeezed_ the alien appendages, crushing them. Blood burst like a popped water balloon from the tentacles, and Sayaka cast off their now impotent grip and conjured two new cutlasses to slice through her remaining constraints and free herself. Still in mid-air as she fell, she hurled one of the blades down the water demon's throat, summoned another as she spun to land on her feet, and then launched herself back at the monster that had originally struck her.

It died a second later, and Sayaka lunged straight at the next one. It also died a second later, but that second was enough for two more of the water demons to charge forward and knock her down. A third followed behind the pair and leapt into the air to pounce on her, but she swung a blade up and bisected the water demon as it fell. Its two halves dropped to either side of her while its blood poured down upon her, staining her crimson.

And still, Sayaka felt nothing but ice in her veins as she frantically rolled to her feet and twisted to face her next attackers in the endless horde of aquatic horrors. Her body had long since burned past its magically augmented limits, but instead of agonizing exhaustion there was numbness. Tentacles slammed and struck her, grabbed and grappled her, lacerated and lashed her, but the pain never penetrated the frigid armor of deadened sensation that pervaded her entire being.

Sayaka was cold, and the cold _burned_.

The water demon nearest to her died as a cutlass sliced diagonally through its mottled flesh and chitinous hide. The one beside it perished as Sayaka shifted the angle of her cutlass and pulled it out of the previous water demon in a ferocious horizontal slash and a spray of blood. Her other hand unleashed even more carnage as it hurled magical cutlasses into the advancing abominations as rapidly as she could conjure them.

Sayaka was cold, and the cold _burned_. Her eyes were open, but she did not see through them. Her ears were intact, but she did not hear through them. Her hands held swords, but she did not feel them. There was only the icy fire that burned inside her soul and instinct as she fought and killed and bled and fought and killed and bled again, on and on without end. That, and a dwindling awareness that this was not who and what she wanted to be and that the man who was making her into this still lived, was still nearby, and was smiling as he watched.

That made her angry. That made her furious. That made her _mad_.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

* * *

Assassin watched silently from the safety of the shadows as crimson blood splattered and fell like rain in the center of the forest glade where Berserker fought her hopeless battle. Caster's abominable minions completely encircled the Servant of Madness and attacked the young, blue-haired warrior in never-ending waves. Berserker countered by spinning and whirling, dervish-like, within the glowing boundaries of a large, azure spell sigil that pulsated in time with what Assassin assumed was the adolescent fighter's frantically beating heart. Misty tendrils frenetically shot up from a blanket of cold, wraith-like fog that surrounded the servant's feet and congealed into cutlasses that the servant rapidly seized and alternately hurled at, slashed, and impaled the advancing horde with. The aquatic horrors perished in droves, but more were always ready to take the place of the fallen and those that were slain simply spawned more. Berserker may have become a veritable maelstrom of magical steel and slaughter in these desperate moments, but she was merely delaying the inevitable.

 _She would already be dead if Caster wasn't toying with her_ , the Servant of the Shadows observed disdainfully as her eyes narrowed and turned to the cackling figure of Gilles de Rais. The insane spellcaster raised and lowered his right arm in excited, ecstatic gesticulations as he gazed rapturously at the tableau of battle taking place before him. His water demons could easily triumph by simply swarming over Berserker and each other, burying the Servant of Madness under the weight of one hundred plus horrors. Instead, Caster restrained them, unleashed them in outrageous but not impossible numbers, all to push Berserker past her limits and deeper into the vortex of madness that was her class's greatest strength and weakness. The crazed Servant of the Spell didn't want to see Berserker die; he wanted to see her fury and hopelessness give birth to a monster, and that mindset disgusted Assassin to no end.

Worst of all, however, Caster was succeeding. The earlier desperation in Berserker's azure eyes had been completely blotted out by an unnerving mixture of frigid apathy and animal bloodlust, and the young warrior seemed to be relying entirely on instinct now to fight the horde. She had, in effect, become a cornered beast whose only options were kill or be killed, but that savagery still wasn't sufficient for Caster. A madman like Gilles de Rais, Assassin knew, wouldn't be satisfied until even the modest dignity Berserker retained in fighting for her life was swallowed up by an ungodly and blind desire for murder.

 _Although it's just as likely at this point that Berserker's master will keel over dead from strain before Caster gets his wish_ , Assassin noted coldly. _The young Matou's health isn't anywhere near robust enough to sustain his servant for long when she fights like this, and if he was smarter he'd have used a command seal to recall Berserker long before now. He's either an idiot, too wracked with pain to think coherently, or both. What a pair this master and servant make!_

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

 _ **Zin! Zin-zin-zin! Zin!**_

Assassin's musings came to an abrupt halt as an inhuman roar that should not have existed outside a nightmare bellowed forth from Berserker's throat and filled the air with an almost tangible killing intent. Simultaneously, dozens of blue, nearly pitch-black spell circles blinked in and out around the Servant of Madness with the sound of violin strings being plucked. The young girl chuckled quietly, a low, dangerous, and heartbreakingly broken sound, and the aquatic horrors encircling her ceased their advance and actually _recoiled_ from her, as if sensing something deadly that they instinctively knew to shy away from. Their master, on the other hand, had an entirely different reaction.

"Yes, that's it! That's the gloriously profane masterpiece I want to see! Show me! Show me the true color of your soul!" the Servant of the Spell demanded as he stood behind his summoned minions, his gaunt body looking like it might burst apart from barely contained anticipation. His eyes widened to a nearly obscene degree with his proclamation, but, to Assassin's surprise, they were fixated entirely on the glowing gem affixed to Berserker's midriff rather than the tragic expression on the servant's face.

Berserker responded to Caster's words by tilting her head back, smiling ferally, and piercing the deranged servant with a hateful, bloodthirsty stare that made it clear she wanted to see him dead no matter the price. She then spun lopsidedly and took a single step forward, and dark currents of wind formed and howled cacophonously around her. The water demons inched back, and the Servant of Madness took another step forward as a spiritual pressure Assassin instinctively recognized as Gaia's touch intensified and came down hard on the clearing. Something _else_ pushed back against it, and for the first time that night Assassin felt true shock.

 _A reality marble? But that's—!_

Tiny cracks materialized in the air where no cracks should exist, confirming Assassin's suspicions, and the Servant of the Shadows suddenly realized that her stealth was no longer a guarantee of safety. She tensed and prepared for anything—in the next moment, literally anything _could_ actually happen—and turned to regard Berserker one last time. The warrior wore a haunted look, an expression that was equal parts molten rage and ice-cold hopelessness with only a single speck of what Assassin would barely term rationality remaining. That last ember dimmed, and then—

 _ **Schhwaff!**_

There was no time for Caster or any of his summoned minions to react, and even Assassin barely saw what happened next. One second Caster was gazing rapturously at Berserker as the girl prepared to call down doom on all of them, and in the next second three of his water demons had been sliced in half and he was clutching a torn grimoire in his left hand as Lancer raced by and slashed the eldritch tome with Gae Dearg. The water demons, having noticed the new threat too late, burst apart in voluminous crimson sprays of blood as the magic linking them to the spellbook came undone. Caster shrieked, furious at this unexpected turn of events, and turned only to lose his right hand as Lancer planted his feet in the ground, spun, and slashed with Gae Buidhe. Painful shock filled Caster's large black eyes but, as he caught sight of the tortured, grief-stricken resolution on Lancer's face, the man who had been Gilles de Rais knew he only had a second more to live unless he escaped.

Fortunately for Caster and unfortunately for everyone else, the Servant of the Spell had kept his earlier promise to Saber and come prepared. Even as Lancer thrust his crimson spear forward to stab Caster through the heart, his spellbook regenerated itself and the anguished, blindfolded face on its cover screamed. The blood saturating the ground instantly boiled and rose as a blinding red mist that hid all three servants from view, and Caster magically vanished just as Gae Dearg's tip punctured the madman's black robes and pierced his chest.

"NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The enraged scream came from Berserker and was immediately followed by the clamor of swords being swung and slammed against the ground in futile, unspent fury. Assassin heard an inhuman snarl next and then the sound of a body collapsing. The bloody mist settled a few seconds later, and Assassin watched as Lancer cautiously approached his blood-drenched and exhausted ally.

"Berserker, we need to flee immediately. The battle has been lost, and we don't have time—"

Kneeling and barely able to support herself, the Servant of Madness still looked up and growled. Lancer flinched at the monstrous, hate-filled expression on the young girl's face but held his ground, and the intensity of his sorrowful gaze seemed to get through to her. Recognition dawned, and her expression quickly flickered from furious to puzzled to comprehending and then horrified.

"Lan...Lancer? Wha...what happened? Is—Oh my god, Matou! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—Hold on! Sakura's counting on y—ugh..."

Berserker's last dregs of strength finally abandoned her and she fell unconscious on her side to the ground, lifeless and as still as a corpse. Not even her chest rose and fell, and the only signs of motion about her was the flickering glow of blue and black radiance from her stomach piercing. Assassin examined her closely to see if her spiritual core would collapse, but the servant seemed surprisingly stable. Lancer ran over to her worriedly, scooped the girl up into his arms, and—his orange eyes darting around quickly to see if they were being pursued—hurriedly retreated deeper into the forest. Assassin was left alone in the blood-soaked glade, and she smiled with morbidly good cheer underneath her white skull mask.

 _My my, tonight has certainly been informative! Who would have thought that Berserker would possess a reality marble? Master Kotomine should be informed of this, but, alas, his attention isn't with me at the moment and I fear that I, being an old, absent-minded woman, might forget. Fortunately, I'm sure what he doesn't know won't hurt him and Lord Tohsaka...yet._

Still smiling and using the darkness and forest foliage as cover, Assassin crept after the two departing servants. The night wasn't over yet, and there were still more secrets for her to uncover and share with her master...as well as other secrets that would be shared only among the Hashashin.

* * *

Sola-Ui sipped a cup of warm tea as she sat back in the white club chair inside her and Kayneth's hotel suite and waited expectantly. The flat screen television against the wall was on and showed a grim-faced news anchor reporting on recent events—last night's evacuation of the Hyatt Hotel and the inexplicably defective explosives found inside, more missing children as the police continued to investigate, speculation that both might be connected to the recent serial murders—but the volume was low and the attractive redhead paid the broadcast little mind. Her mind was focused on what were to her far more important matters.

On the round accent table beside her, a glass bauble shimmered with the faint sparkling of dancing white lights. It looked like a domed paperweight to the untrained eye, but Sola-Ui knew it to be the second half of one of the Archibald family's mystic codes. It had begun glowing approximately thirty minutes ago, which meant the first half had activated. And the first half would only have activated if—

 _If Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, my fiancé, is dead._

Sola-Ui was surprised but not entirely displeased by the development. She'd never particularly liked Kayneth and had resented being betrothed to an older man, and his reckless decision to bring her with him to Japan to act as a glorified _arcane battery_ in a war between mages had further soured her opinion of the pompous fool. The idiot had genuinely thought she'd be impressed while he risked both their lives for the sake of his prestige. And while his death was not something she would have specifically wished for—she knew others called her a spiteful woman, but she wasn't so spiteful as to genuinely want someone dead—she wasn't blinded by grief and could _appreciate_ the new and exciting possibilities his passing opened up for her.

First, there were now over a dozen mystic codes lying within what was practically arm's reach of her. More likely than not, her family would return them to the Archibalds—she had no official claim to them as a bereaved fiancée rather than a widower and the Sophia-Ris weren't powerful enough to cross Kayneth's relatives—but that would take time and couldn't even begin until she returned to England. For as long as she stayed in Japan, she could use them freely, study them to her heart's content, and pilfer their secrets, and the part of her that was a magus could barely restrain its eagerness to master these arcane mysteries.

Second, she could now move about the city freely again without worrying about a bullet tearing through her head. The half of the mystic code beside her that had been in Kayneth's possession was retributive in nature, designed to incapacitate the owner's killer. The half in her possession was the counter needed to dispel the curse, and it was supposed to be used to negotiate for the return of the deceased's corpse. Kayneth had explained the mystic code's history and function to her before they left the Clock Tower, speaking in a bored, haughty tone of how—when his family had been slightly _less_ prestigious—his ancestors had created the mystic code to ensure the El-Melloi magic crest would be returned to them in a worst case scenario. They'd never needed to use it, though, and he was only taking it along because it was family custom to do so.

 _And thus Kayneth became the first El-Melloi whose death triggered the mystic code. I'm certain that's_ _ **not**_ _how he wanted to distinguish himself in the family history._

The corners of Sola-Ui's soft pink lips lifted slightly at the scornful thought, and she took another sip of her tea. Kayneth's premature death aside, her half of the mystic code wouldn't have activated if the other half hadn't succeeded in cursing her fiancé's killer. Either the Emiya master or his Einzbern employer were now completely comatose, and she was the only person who could break the spell. They'd be fools to assassinate her now, once she informed them of the facts, and knowing that the most ruthless faction in the Grail War had, in regards to her, been effectively defanged was a tremendous weight off her shoulders.

Of course, both these matters were trivial compared to what truly mattered to her— Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the hero who had stolen her heart and whose miraculous existence increasingly occupied more and more of her waking thoughts. Just thinking about the man brought a flush to her cheeks, and her heart pounded with a potent combination of relief and hopeful anticipation as she waited. Relief that Diarmuid still lived; Kayneth's modifications to the summoning ritual had transferred the burden of supplying Lancer with magical energy to her, and the steady flow of magic binding their lives together continued to flow despite Kayneth's death. And hope that, as she sat and waited, what she anticipated would happen next would truly come to pass.

Sola-Ui's patience was finally rewarded when a prickly, stinging sensation ran across the skin of her right hand. She hissed in minor pain as she hastily lowered the teacup onto the accent table and held up the back of her right hand to study it. Just as she'd expected, the sight of two red command seals greeted her.

"Perfect," she spoke with giddy joy, immediately shooting to her feet and rushing over to a mirror to study her appearance. She wanted to look her best when Lancer returned to the hotel suite.

 _Because Diarmuid is now all_ _ **mine**_ _._

* * *

 _Kiritsugu's face was an expressionless mask as he looked around at the hauntingly familiar fishing village on the island seashore. The weather-worn wood and corroded sheet metal buildings were small and rustic, and the narrow roads crisscrossing the small town were little more than unpaved dirt. Signs of modernity were few and far apart—a primitive transistor radio here; an old, beaten-up vehicle held together by baling wire and duct tape over there; a vintage, battery-powered clock overlooking a wooden porch; and other fleeting signs of a world far removed from this one. The homes were well-maintained, though, and each possessed a warm, welcoming rural charm that bespoke the love and trust the villagers had for each other._

 _People passed by him in ones and twos and the occasional small group, going about their daily business with the relaxed ease of those free to do things in their own time. There were old men and women, their adult children, and a third, younger generation, all with dark skin tanned by the hot tropical sun and weathered by spending most of their time outside working or playing. They wore light cotton and linen shirts and shorts suitable for the climate, most of them hand-me-downs, and they paid Kiritsugu no mind as they walked by. They rarely looked in his direction, and when they did they looked right through him, as if he were invisible to them. As if he were a ghost...although Kiritsugu knew that the opposite was true._

 _Kiritsugu recognized every face, although time had stricken many of the names from his mind. He knew this island, even though many details had faded from his memory. And he remembered this day—this tragic, sorrowful day that he could never forget._

 _"Alimango Island," the Magus Killer said tersely, his gaze flitting about from face to face in search of the one person he desperately did not want to see but knew he inevitably would. Sure enough, a short, dark-haired boy who was instantly recognizable to Kiritsugu as his younger self soon rushed past and Kiritsugu, bowing to the inescapable, followed after him._

 _The trek continued for several minutes as the younger Kiritsugu anxiously made his way through the village, stopping occasionally to ask other people on the streets a question they all answered in the negative. He slowed upon reaching a small, one-story house that was only a little larger than a shack. Tentatively, the boy walked up to the front door and knocked once and then twice. Not hearing an answer, he tried the door handle and found it was unlocked._

 _The adult Kiritsugu steeled himself for what he knew was coming next as he watched the young boy nervously enter the home of his father's assistant and his first crush. He walked behind himself as the child looked around and found the empty bottle of medicine from his father's workshop on the floor. He watched as the boy startled at the sound of frightened poultry coming from the backyard and, mustering courage, rushed out behind the house to investigate. He observed, emotionlessly, as the boy's black eyes widened in fear and confusion at the sight of blood-covered chickens fluttering about amid the mutilated bodies of their flock-mates and then widened further in horror as they followed the blood trail and spied the back of a familiar girl. Normally possessing a carefree, natural beauty, the girl now looked gaunt and haggard as she hunched over with her face hidden from him and hungrily fed on the distressed avians._

 _Sentiment momentarily overrode fear, and the boy stepped forward and shouted the girl's name. Her head turned back to look at him, and her eyes swelled with a terror the boy had never seen before. She was afraid, not of him, not of her transformation, but of the unbearable possibility that she might hurt him. Desperate, she threw herself away from him into the wired chicken coop and shouted back at him, begging him to kill her as she tossed him a sheathed knife. The boy hesitated, petrified, as the humanity drained out of the girl's eyes and she bit her own arm to satisfy her awakening vampiric impulses rather than feast on him._

 _The adult Kiritsugu felt a dull throb as he watched, the type of pain one feels from an old wound that has only calloused over and will never fully heal, but his cold, stoic demeanor did not shift in the slightest. He'd had a simple choice back then, although he'd only realized how simple much later. He could murder the girl, a brilliant young woman whose curiosity had doomed her, and end her agonizing misery before she became something both less and worse than human. Or he could run and seek help, living free of the guilt of killing his first love but putting everyone else in the village at risk of contracting the same plague of vampirism. The certainty of a small tragedy, or the possibility a large tragedy. Sacrifice one life to save one hundred, or endanger one hundred in the slight chance the one could be saved._

 _The boy ran away with Shirley's pleading eyes and anguished, inhuman moans following behind him, burned forever into his memory along with the knowledge that by the end of the night everyone in the village would be dead, killed by the living dead and ghouls who were in turn destroyed by the Holy Church's Executors and the Mage's Association's Enforcers. Had the boy been braver—had he been able to do what Shirley had begged him to do—those lives could have been saved. Instead, he'd listened to his heart and damned everyone._

 _Suddenly, he laughed. It was mirthless sound, but it was also tinged with relief. He'd been worried when the hallway in the Einzbern mansion had grown dark and Kayneth's retributive curse—What else could this possibly be?—struck him, but this was nothing he needed to fear. A curse that forced a man to relive his most painful memories? He already relived those memories every day; they were always with him and were what made him the Magus Killer, and there was nothing in his past that could possibly compare with the pain awaiting him at the end of the Grail War when he would make the choice his younger self had run away from and murder the woman he loved to save the world._

 _"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell," he quoted quietly as he turned in the direction the boy had run and once again followed after him. This memory wasn't over yet, and there was still more tragedy to witness...and, inevitably, when he awoke and won the Holy Grail War, to experience firsthand._

* * *

Author's Note: The quote is from The Duchess of Padua, a five-act play written by Oscar Wilde.


	8. Ch7 - Throwing My Life Away

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Seven – How Many Times Did I Throw My Life Away?

Deep within the sewers underneath Fuyuki, a young man in his early twenties brushed his wavy orange hair to the side of his handsome face and smiled proudly as his brown eyes studied his newest masterpiece of desecrated human flesh. The young man's name was Uryuu Ryuunosuke, and he was a serial killer with artistic aspirations of a type only a similarly twisted mind could appreciate. Unfortunately for Fuyuki, that was exactly what Ryuunosuke had found when the Holy Grail selected him as a master and summoned Gilles de Rais—whom he knew as Bluebeard—in the Caster class to be his servant.

Since that fateful night, the heinously well-matched master and servant had kidnapped dozens of young women and children throughout the city. They tortured some in pursuit of ever more creative and dynamic deaths, sacrificed others to summon the flesh-eating tentacle monsters Caster commanded, and occasionally—Ryuunosuke always sighed regretfully when this happened—straight-up murdered one when Caster's temper erupted. Still, Ryuunosuke never held his new friend's mood swings against him for long. The big guy's volatility notwithstanding, Bluebeard was the coolest person Ryuunosuke had ever met and was helping him take his study of death to new, previously unattainable extremes.

Case in point? His latest creation made in obscene homage to Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Thanks to Caster's life-extending magic, Ryuunosuke had succeeded in surgically dismembering a twin boy and girl down their vertical axes without killing them. He'd then stitched each twin's half to its opposite-gendered counterpart, and, with extra arms and legs provided by the children who'd shared a cage with the twins, attached additional limbs in positions that mirrored the famous sketch. With his inspiration still running hot, Ryuunosuke had followed up with a profane allusion to Christ's crucifixion by nailing each of his artistic subjects to two diagonal crosses that faced each other. The big guy was sure to love that! And with the hocus-pocus paralyzing their bodies, each horrifically joined twin could do nothing but watch its other joined half in awful understanding of the impossible atrocity that had been committed upon them as death, with painfully slow cruelty, claimed them.

"Life truly is wonderful," Ryuunosuke remarked with unsettling sincerity as he stepped back and admired his gruesome handiwork. He stood there for several minutes appraisingly, taking in every detail of his victims' agony and terror. Finally satisfied, he set down his bloody scalpel on a nearby workbench and, whistling a jaunty tune, walked around Caster's lair to compare his other depraved works of art against his latest. There were over a dozen of these unfortunate souls put on display with the remorseless brazenness of men without conscience, and there were many more who had once been showcased before being taken down once Caster's magic reached its limit and they finally expired. Ryuunosuke had been so excited during his first few days with Caster that he'd foolishly not taken photos for a portfolio, but he'd wised up since and bought a camera. He knew he'd never forget this, but it was important to preserve his work so that it could inspire someone else someday. After all, it would be horribly selfish of him to keep all this to himself!

Ryuunosuke suddenly felt an otherworldly pressure as the air seemed to thicken and press against him, and he let out a light-hearted, welcoming laugh as he turned to greet the returned Bluebeard.

"Hey big guy, welcome ba—Whoa! Had a rough night, I take it?" the orange-haired sadist asked sympathetically as Caster materialized in a hazy shroud of caliginous purple light. The Servant of the Spell's muddy black robe was torn and he held his left hand tightly against the bleeding stump where his right hand used to be. Most tellingly, though, was the livid expression on Caster's face, and Ryuunosuke knew immediately that someone had seriously pissed off his friend.

"Stay cool, Bluebeard. I've got this! There's a med kit around here somewhere, so if you wait a minute I'll have bandages ready for you in no time. Just—"

Caster ignored Ryuunosuke completely and lurched over to the two twins his master had spent the better part of the night surgically dismantling and reassembling. His black eyes too furious to appreciate the artistry on display, Caster reached for the wrist of one of the extra arms and, in a single sickeningly smooth jerk, tore the hand off. He then roughly shoved the child's hand on top of his own bleeding limb and turned to his grimoire, which had taken to the air in front of him and obligingly flipped its pages to the spell its owner sought. Caster wasted no time in chanting the arcane verses, eldritch words whose discordant sounds produced an effect not unlike nails scraping against a chalkboard, and a defiled blue light materialized silhouetting his entire upper right arm. When the halo faded a few seconds later, the child's right hand had been reshaped in a mimicry of his own and flowed naturally into his wrist as if it had always been there. Caster flexed his new hand experimentally as Ryuunosuke watched, frowning.

"...What the hell, big guy? I thought we talked about this," Ryuunouske scolded reproachfully as he shook his head. "Look, I know you get angry. We all do! But anger doesn't solve _anything_ , man, and if you let it blind you you'll totally miss the awesome opportunities out there! Case in point? The children in the cages we're saving for later. You could've grabbed spare body parts from one of them and freshened the rest up for their upcoming time in the spotlight with a little extra terror, but instead you lashed out and ruined something truly _beautiful_!"

"Hm?" Caster muttered in surprise, turning to face Ryuunosuke as if just noticing his master's presence. When he did, though, all traces of anger vanished from his face as manic excitement rushed in to replace it. "Ah, Ryuunosuke! I'm so glad you're here. Tonight didn't go as I'd planned, but that doesn't matter at all now for I have seen the vilest desecration imaginable! The foulest of heresies and the wickedest of forbidden magic! And I have been inspired to _surpass_ it!"

"Oh man, that sounds totally _cool_!" Ryuunosuke exclaimed eagerly, his earlier irritation forgotten as he rubbed his two hands together in gleeful anticipation. "Just say the word, and I'll go and grab whatever and whomever you need. And, uh, does this mean we're back to quality over quantity?" he asked with unmistakable hopefulness in his tone.

"Yes...and no," Caster answered, his voice nearly breathless with exhilaration as he visualized his next crime against God. "You might call what I'm about to do...experimental art, I think the modern term is?...and we'll need numbers to achieve the greatest effect."

Ryuunosuke shrugged nonchalantly, doing his best to hide his disappointment. "If you say so, big guy. I suppose that's the price we pay for being avant-garde. I'll go put on some clothes without bloodstains and get more kids for you."

"Excellent, Ryuunosuke! Truly, you are a wise and understanding soul," Caster commended him as he placed his two hands on his master's shoulders gratefully. "Trust me, you will be _amazed_ when you see what I have in mind. Amazed and astounded! It'll be a sin without peer, a deed so disgusting and revolting that the heavens will weep and Jeanne will _finally_ realize that God is a cruel, uncaring despot who doesn't deserve her love for permitting such an abominable atrocity to occur! So go, and return with as many children as you can gather before sunrise. The city is full of hateful philistines who can't appreciate our work and who will try to stop us if we stay out too late."

The man who had been Gilles de Rais in life suddenly smiled maniacally and, releasing his master, opened his flesh-covered grimoire and turned its pages with feverish intensity.

"But soon...it'll be too late for _them_!" Caster vowed with demented glee. "The greatest sin will also be the ultimate upset, and the many iniquities we've committed thus far will seem like pleasant _daydreams_ in comparison! May our enemies enjoy their sleep tonight, for it'll be the last peaceful respite they have!"

* * *

Kariya feverishly drifted in and out of consciousness, his convulsing body wracked by excruciating agony greater than any even he had thought possible after suffering for more than a year with the accursed Matou crest worms embedded in his flesh. Images of his life flashed before his eyes—Zouken looking down at him, a cruel and merciless sneer on the old man's shriveled face as he made terrible plans for the future; his older brother Byakuya and himself when they were both children, running in the park in the sun and daring to imagine they might someday also run away from the Matou legacy; his first meeting with Aoi, whose kindness and beauty had never dimmed in his eyes despite the many years that had passed since then; the day he finally left Fuyuki and the nervous fear that had nearly paralyzed him until the bus departed the city without the old man materializing to drag him back; the unremarkable but contented life he had lived as a freelance writer as he tried to make a future himself without having any idea what that future should be; Aoi again, still beautiful but now also heartbreakingly sad; his return to the Matou estate and desperate bargain with Zouken; the year of hell as he underwent Zouken's horrific training; and finally, more prominently than anything else, Sakura's hopeless yet immeasurably precious face.

That last image was all Kariya needed. No matter how great the pain, no matter how broken his body, he could endure anything if it was for Sakura's sake. Slowly, with herculean effort, he mustered his willpower and reclaimed a tiny measure of control just barely sufficient to stop the damned insects inside him from completely eating him alive. His agony didn't remit in the slightest, though, and in certain respects even worsened as it became more focused. Kariya's tormented mind screamed and his thoughts were like cacophonous fires, and in this blazing inferno he caught sight of a memory that was not his own. He saw—

 _A subway station at night, illuminated by somber electric lights that cast innumerable shadows. A familiar blue-haired girl in a tan middle school uniform sat by herself in a row of chairs overlooking the rail tracks. A glowing billboard stood behind the girl, whose head was downcast and whose hands were clasped together dispiritedly on her lap. Save for the soft electrical hum and the girl's quiet breathing, everything was silent and, it seemed to Kariya, waiting with a sense of dread expectation for what would happen next._

 _"Finally! I found you at last."_

 _The female voice was new to Kariya and came from a red-haired girl who looked to be about the same age as Sayaka. The stranger was slightly shorter than his servant and wore a teal-colored, partly zipped jacket that left her navel exposed and a pair of scandalously short shorts. Her long hair was wild and unkempt, trailing down to her waist and tied back by a black ribbon. The crimson tresses moved sinuously back and forth as the girl walked over to Sayaka with a self-assured, ne'er-do-well swagger contrasted by the poorly hidden concern visible in her matching red eyes. With feigned nonchalance, the new arrival sat down beside his servant, reached into her pockets, and pulled out a tube of potato chips._

 _"So, how much longer are you going to do the stubborn thing, huh?" the redhead complained as she popped the tube's lid and raised the container to her mouth so she could devour the chips with gusto._

 _"I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble," Sayaka answered in a spiritless voice that sent chills down Kariya's spine. He_ _ **knew**_ _that voice; it was the same hopeless tone Sakura spoke in these days, and it was completely at odds with the passionate heroic spirit he'd spent the past week with._

 _The redhead mirrored his thoughts as she reached for another chip and turned slightly to regard her companion. "Seriously? That doesn't sound like you at all."_

 _Sayaka's gaze remained lowered as she answered in the same languid, disheartened voice as before, seemingly only a step away from anguished hysteria. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I just don't care anymore. I can't even remember what I thought was so important, so worth protecting...None of it makes sense anymore."_

 _The red-haired girl's eyes narrowed in uncertainty as she popped another chip into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. She was clearly at a loss, not having expected this and not knowing what to say to comfort the distraught girl beside her, and she searched in vain for words._

 _"Hey, c'mon..."_

 _Sayaka didn't give her time to find them. The despondent girl lifted a hand to reveal the soul gem clutched in her lap, and—instead of its normal dazzling azure—the arcane jewel was nearly pitch black with only a few scattered motes of blue flickering faintly in its watery depths. The redhead no longer made any effort to hide her concern when she caught sight of the tainted orb, gasping and rearing back in alarm. Sayaka, though, droned on morosely, as if it didn't matter. As if nothing mattered at all._

 _"Balance means good and bad have to zero themselves out, right? That's what you said...or something like it. I think I understand what you mean now...The good thing is, I did save a few people. But the bad thing is, I got angrier and my heart filled up with envy and hate. So much so that I even hurt my dearest friend."_

 _The sheer, heartbreaking sadness in Sayaka's voice as she said these words was indescribable, as if her sorrow was a well with no bottom and she was a discarded rock sinking deeper and deeper into its depths. Her companion reacted with horror._

 _"Sayaka! You didn't—?!"_

 _The blue-haired girl ignored the panicked exclamation, ignored the speaker, ignored_ _ **everything**_ _except her own grief and self-hatred as she lifted her soul gem closer to her broken heart._

 _"For all the happiness you wish for someone, someone else gets cursed with equal misery," she concluded with tragic finality. "That's how it works for magical girls, and that's how it is for me."_

 _A sob escaped Sayaka's lips, and she finally raised her head and turned to look at the red-haired girl who'd searched for her. The expression on her face was one of complete and utter despair, and tears welled up in her eyes and trailed heavily down her checks. One tear landed on her soul gem, and the last twinkling glimmer of blue light died._

 _"I was stupid...so stupid."_

 _For a single second, the world seemed to stand still as Kariya felt something ineffably precious_ _ **break**_ _, and then Sayaka's soul gem erupted. Dark blue, ghostly white, and unfathomably black light burst out of the jewel in a wild torrent of kaleidoscopic colors as raging winds howled and hurled the red-haired girl back through the air. She yelled her friend's name as the torrent carried her away but to no avail. The body of the girl who had been Miki Sayaka fell lifelessly to the ground before it, too, was caught in the same storm._

 _And yet, the power pouring out of the soul gem continued to intensify until the soul gem itself shattered. In its place, a gray and black sphere etched with alien runes floated high into the air and pulsed with a forlorn darkness that swept over everything and plunged all that Kariya could see into night, except that this night chilled the soul and had substance like water at the bottom of the ocean. Flashes of blue and white light exploded and fizzled around him as images of people and places appeared and disappeared far too quickly for him to make out in the darkness, and then, from deep within the inky depths, the helmed silhouette of a malevolent giant took shape and rose. The monstrous titan grew larger and larger as it ascended and then, impossibly, it turned to look at_ _ **him**_ _. It reached out with a gauntleted fist and—_

"Gaaah!" Kariya screamed as the end of a wooden cane came down hard on his extended right arm, waking him from the nightmare to confront another. Standing in front of him and looking scornfully amused was the second to last man Kariya ever wanted to see.

"Congratulations, Kariya," Zouken commented in a cruelly amused tone. "It's a few hours past midnight and, technically, day seven of the Grail War, and you're not dead. For someone as inept and idiotic as you, that's quite the accomplishment."

"Sh-shut up," Kariya retorted hatefully, forcing himself through sheer force of will to ignore the pain coursing through his body and look up at the monster in the shape of a decrepit old man. He attempted to stand, but no sooner had he risen to a crouch then another convulsion overtook him and he collapsed. His flesh twisted as the crest worms squirmed underneath his skin, desperately gorging themselves on his flesh to produce magical energy that was just as desperately consumed by his servant. Berserker was a distant presence in his mind, far away and unconscious, but she might as well have been directly behind him stabbing a sword through his back for all the agony their contract was now putting him through. And as though to drive home that point, his left arm suddenly spasmed as the parasites inside him once again chewed apart the tendons and reduced the limb to uselessness. Kariya barely managed to lift his face off the ground with his one remaining good arm before he hacked up blood, bile, and scores of ravenous insects.

"Perhaps I spoke too soon?" the Matou patriarch mocked as he grinned sadistically. "That's disgusting, and at the rate you're holding up, Kariya, you might make this old man look good in comparison soon."

Kariya ignored the insult. He couldn't hold his own in banter against Zouken at the best of times, and, with his head pounding like a locomotive engine and his body in worse shape than the national economy, this was about as far from the best of times as he could possibly get.

"Wh-what d-do you want, y-you old worm?!"

Cruel smile still on his face, Zouken shook his wrinkled head in admonishment. "Temper, temper, Kariya. It's not good for your health...or what remains of it, anyway. Besides, why the surprise? Surely you didn't believe I wouldn't pay you a visit after the feat your servant nearly performed last night?"

At the confused expression on Kariya's face, Zouken's smile reversed itself and he sighed in contempt. "Honestly, are you _trying_ to undershoot my already abysmal expectations for you, Kariya? Sakura's future is bright indeed if that's the case!"

"D-don't you d-dare bring her in-into this!" Kariya shouted before heaving again as his stomach churned. Groaning, he wiped the vomit off his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and glared up at his tormentor. "J-just what's so...so important a-bo-bout last night, an-anyway?"

Had he not already been lying prone on the ground, the force of Zouken's withering gaze might have knocked him down. With difficulty, he racked his hazy memories of last night to figure out what the old man was talking about. He...he remembered his servant desperately fighting Caster's horrific minions alone, and then...what he recalled next was more a tortured stream of consciousness than coherent narrative as Berserker's energy uptake spiked with her Mad Enhancement. Searing agony had engulfed his entire body as the crest worms struggled to sustain her, and he'd barely managed to hang onto consciousness let alone concentrate. But then Berserker's energy uptake spiked further and then even further until he'd feared she'd drain him dry and...there was nothing after that, only blackness and...the distant sound of violin music?

Zouken sighed again and leaned down heavily against his cane. "I'm almost tempted not to say anything now, but even if you're the same hopeless idiot you've always been your servant, at least, has shown unexpected promise."

For just a moment, the centuries of built-up scorn and cruelty disappeared from Zouken's gaunt, shriveled face, and Kariya saw the full five hundred years of ruthless determination and merciless intellect that animated the ancient magus. He shuddered at the sight, his very soul protesting the existence of the abomination in front of him. If Zouken noticed, he paid it no heed.

"Your servant possesses a reality marble, Kariya," the Matou patriarch explained in the condescending tones of a teacher lecturing a stupid child. "That's borderline sorcery and is all but impossible, even for a servant and _especially_ for one of the Berserker class. The 'fog of turmoil and chaos' that afflicts her mind renders mere coherent thought a wonder in itself, and the capacity to project her internal mental world upon reality should be _unfathomable_. And yet your servant can do both...and seemingly kept you in the dark about this miraculous noble phantasm of hers. Tell me, Kariya, just how much do you truly know about this Berserker you summoned?"

Kariya looked up at Zouken angrily as the old man's contemptuous sneer returned. "That's n-none of y-your business!"

"Oh? Perhaps it isn't," Zouken answered with false graciousness, his malicious smirk revealing his true feelings. "But as a veteran of the Holy Grail Wars, let me give you a piece of advice. The servants have their own motives independent of the wishes of their masters, and they are perfectly capable of manipulating, deceiving, and even betraying their masters despite the command seals. Indeed, one could even say that the command seals incentivize the servants to deceive their masters, since direct opposition is so easily countered. Trusting your servant without even knowing what she's fighting for is idiotic, even for you. And if you are to have more than the faint ghost of a chance of winning you currently just _barely_ possess, it behooves you to learn who your servant is and what she is truly capable of. Another surprise like last night could kill you...and then what would happen to dear Sakura, I wonder?"

Zouken laughed mockingly as Kariya reared up unsteadily and lunged at him in a blind rage. He didn't bother side-stepping and instead let his body disperse into the hundreds of insects that comprised it. They chittered in malicious unison as Kariya passed harmlessly through the swarm and collapsed on the ground, his flesh twisting and his veins throbbing again as the crest worms inside him reacted to his fury.

"I did warn you about your temper," Zouken taunted in a hundred droning, high-pitched voices that worsened Kariya's pounding headache. The younger Matou nearly screamed but, instead, he clenched his teeth and brought the force of his desperate willpower down to suppress his anger. The swarm that was Zouken buzzed in amusement.

"Heh. As much as it pains me to offer you any praise at all, Kariya, your capacity to _suffer_ is quite remarkable...but I suppose everyone possesses at least one talent."

"G-g-go away," Kariya rasped resentfully between ragged breaths as he struggled to bring his body under control. Zouken watched him intently for several more moments from hundreds of eyes, seemingly enjoying Kariya's wretchedness, before the swarm began to fly off.

"If you insist. I do have another training session for Sakura to oversee," the ancient magus answered in an increasingly quiet but no less cruel voice as the swarm dispersed. "But do take my advice to heart, Kariya. Your servant may have the appearance of a young girl with a zeal for justice, but an unassuming exterior can hide the vilest of humanity. Trust me—this is something I know _intimately_ well."

Kariya didn't say anything as the host of insects continued to depart. Instead, he groaned and nursed his anger, furious at Zouken for everything he'd said and done...and at himself, for being forced to acknowledge that Zouken was right despite it all.

 _Damn it!_ , he cursed, knowing there was nothing else for him to do until Berserker woke up and they finally had the talk he'd been postponing for the past week, which now seemed to have been a week too long.

* * *

The curtains were closed in the spare bedroom of Kayneth's hotel suite, but Sola-Ui still noticed when the room slowly brightened as the first rays of dawn filtered through the heavy beige fabrics. She yawned once, tiredly, having gone the whole night without sleep, and leaned over the bed one more time to examine its comatose, blue-haired occupant. From the other side of the bed, a third person watched everything with sad orange eyes.

"Berserker will be fine, Lancer," Sola-Ui assured the Irish heroic spirit as she looked up at him with a lingering gaze. "She consumed more magical energy than her master could support and collapsed from magic deprivation, but, with my help—" The redhead made a hand gesture to indicate the crimson magic circle inscribed on the floor surrounding the bed, which had been pulled out from the wall. "—she's now receiving a steady stream of magical energy and is no longer in any danger of fading away. You did the right thing in bringing her to me so quickly. It's only a matter of time now before Berserker recovers and wakes up."

Lancer nodded his head gratefully, and Sola-Ui returned her gaze to the Servant of Madness's prone form to hide her flushed cheeks. It was of the utmost importance that Diarmuid see her as a capable professional right now and not as a lovesick girl—her plans depended on it!

"Thank you, Mistress Sola-Ui. To know that at least one life was saved last night...I will be forever grateful to you. However, I have failed in my most important duty as a knight, and that is unforgivable. Because of my shortcomings, you have lost your fiancé."

The grief in Lancer's voice pained Sola-Ui, and she experienced a flash of anger at Kayneth for putting him in such pain. It figured the idiot would still be a nuisance after his death!

"This isn't your fault, Lancer!" she rushed to comfort him, standing up and barely stopping herself from running over to him and clasping his strong hands in hers. "You were only following Kayneth's orders, and if anyone is responsible for what happened it's him. He's the one who insisted on a direct confrontation with the Magus Killer despite your protests and being fully aware of Emiya's reputation. Kayneth brought this upon himself!"

Lancer turned and regarded her sorrowfully. "As a knight, I am sworn to serve and defend my lord regardless of the quality of his decisions. Master Kayneth entrusted me with defeating Saber, and I failed to do that and return to him in his moment of need. His death rests on my shoulders, and my shoulders alone, and a knight who cannot protect his lord has no place in a war."

The black-haired servant's orange eyes briefly focused on the two command seals on the back of Sola-Ui's right hand, and then he lowered his head solemnly. "Mistress Sola-Ui, Master Kayneth loved you dearly, and the only thing I can do now to honor him is to ensure your safety. Once Berserker has recovered, please travel to the Kotomine Church and relinquish your command seals and rights as a master, and then leave Fuyuki. I will let myself fade away so as to—"

"No," Sola-Ui interrupted, her svelte voice firm. "Abandoning the Grail War is the last thing I'll do." She held up her command seals proudly. "As a servant, you physically manifest in this world using my magical energy, and now I also have the command seals. The Holy Grail has _chosen_ me as a master. As _your_ master, and I have not given you the command to withdraw from the battlefield."

"Before I am a servant of the Grail War, I am first and foremost a knight," Lancer spoke firmly, his penetrating gaze remaining respectfully lowered. "And a knight can only serve—"

"Look me in the eyes when you speak!" Sola-Ui interrupted Lancer again, her desire to see his face getting the better of her. Knowing this, and knowing that this was not the way to win the Irish knight over, she forced herself to appear calm and focused her thoughts on the gambit she'd been plotting ever since learning of her fiancé's less than tragic demise.

"If you are truly loyal to Kayneth and wish to atone for his death, then fight beside me and help me win the Holy Grail," Sola-Ui pleaded earnestly. "Only a miracle can bring someone back from the dead, and that is _exactly_ what the Holy Grail grants the winner—a miracle! If you're feeling responsible for all this...if you desire to give Kayneth back his life...then you _must_ win the Holy Grail with me."

Lancer was silent for a long moment, and Sola-Ui felt the full weight of his brooding, pensive gaze on her. It thrilled her and made her weak in the knees, but she maintained her composure through sheer willpower and the allure of the future she wanted with him.

"Mistress Sola-Ui," Lancer said at last, his tone cautious as he watched her carefully, "do you say this as Master Kayneth's fiancée and seek the Holy Grail only on his behalf? Will you swear to it?"

The red-haired magus couldn't completely suppress her grin at hearing these words, knowing as she did that her tactic had succeeded, but she tried anyway.

"Y-yes, of course," she answered quickly, eager to finalize the arrangement. "So long as you stay by my side and protect me, then, as the fiancée of Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, I vow to win the Holy Grail so that we can resurrect him."

 _Yes, together we'll win the Grail and you'll use your wish to bring Kayneth back to life_ , Sola-Ui thought gleefully to herself as Lancer slowly nodded his head in acquiescence. _Your honor won't permit anything else...but that still leaves my_ _ **own**_ _wish, and there's nothing I want more than your heart, Lancer. Soon...very soon now, we'll be together as we should, and I will make you forget all your pain and grief. I promise._

Lancer, for his part, expressed neither joy nor sorrow as he agreed to serve his late master's wife; instead, if anything, he appeared resigned. He recognized the look in Sola-Ui's eyes, he knew history was repeating itself, and he understood that, just as before with Grainne, fate was too cruel to let it happen any other way. And yet, he did not— _could not_ —hate and curse the tragic spinning of destiny's wheels that produced these outcomes; he was who he was, Grainne and Fionn had been who they had been, and Kayneth and Sola-Ui were who they were. Being false to yourself was a far worse fate, and he would not fault anyone for following their heart. He simply wished that the powers that be would let him be true to himself without that truth always leading, seemingly inevitably, to the same tragedy.

With a quiet sigh, he turned his head to glance at the unconscious Berserker and ruefully hoped that her dreams, at least, weren't as troubled as his own waking thoughts. They had much to do and discuss when she awoke, and this might be the last chance to rest she had for many nights to come.

* * *

Miki Sayaka sat by herself and leaned listlessly against the interior wall of the moving metro train as the coruscating black and white nightscape of Mitakihara passed by in the expansive window behind her. Her face was half-covered in shadow, but the melancholy she felt came across clearly in her lethargic expression and matched the lugubrious mood of her colorless surroundings.

"Do you want to talk about it?" a kind female voice asked her comfortingly, and Sayaka slowly turned her head to face the young and familiar pink-haired girl standing nearby who had not been there seconds ago.

"...Are you real, or a figment of my imagination?" Sayaka asked wearily, her tone haggard and dismal.

Madoka shrugged and moved to sit down across from her, smoothing out the folds in her middle school uniform as she did so.

"Does it matter?"

Sayaka was silent for a moment, watching her new companion guardedly, and then she chuckled sadly.

"No, I guess it doesn't. So, here to give your best friend another pep talk after her _latest_ failure?" she asked with a weak grin, trying and failing to inject humor into her self-deprecation.

"The thought crossed my mind," Madoka admitted with a weak but sincere smile of her own, her voice devoid of the blame and disappointment Sayaka both believed she deserved and feared. "But I figured you'd appreciate a chat with a friend more."

"...What, afraid I'll get super psyched up and go out Torii Mototada style if I hear some words of encouragement right now?" Sayaka joked wryly, her features crooked, before dropping the facade with a miserable sigh. Placing her head in her hands, she slumped forward wretchedly.

"I did it again, y'know. Got so caught up in a fight and my own stupid anger that I became blind to everything else and hurt someone I wanted to protect," she confided in a distressed tone. "Matou nearly died because of the strain I put him through, and, had Lancer not shown up when he did, I'm super sure he would have dropped dead when I summoned my-summoned _Oktavia's_ labyrinth. I'd fade away not long after that, and the person we're both fighting for—Sakura—would remain trapped in Zouken's horrible care for the rest of her life."

Sayaka grit her teeth at that last admission, feeling a surge of anger and hatred aimed at someone other than herself, and then she looked up at her friend with pained blue eyes.

"I know you wanted to give me a second chance and all, but I think you mighta been better off sending someone else. I always seem to mess up this whole 'being a hero' thing."

In response, Madoka stood, walked over to her suffering friend, and placed a hand on Sayaka's left shoulder. She then leaned forward so that they were at eye-level—compassionate pink gazing into agonized ocean blue—and gave her friend's shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I know two people who could easily have said the same thing not too long ago, and one of them is me," Madoka said softly, her voice quieting in reminiscence. "How many times did I see my friends die, one after another, despite my best efforts to save them? How many times did I throw my life away fighting Walpurgisnacht only to become something even more terrible in the aftermath? How many times did Homura try to save me only to make things worse? The two of us made a disastrous mess of things too, but we never stopped trying and eventually managed to get it right."

Sayaka wanted to say, sullenly, _Yeah, but that was you_. She wanted to tell Madoka how much of a better person Madoka was and how, unlike herself, Madoka had never lost her capacity to feel compassion and forgotten her desire to help her friends even when drowning in despair. She wanted to tell Madoka that she didn't deserve her faith, that she was a failure who always died in the end, that—

Madoka's pink pupils briefly flashed _golden_ and silenced Sayaka's objections. Within those eyes, on the other side, there were worlds upon worlds and soul upon soul upon soul in numbers Sayaka's mortal mind couldn't begin to fathom. At the same time, though, there was also the awe-inspiring, absolute understanding of someone who had not only known Sayaka for her entire life but also _knew_ her entire life.

"It's true—you aren't me, and you don't have a friend who can rewind time back to the beginning until you succeed, but that's not what matters," Madoka, goddess, girl, and friend, spoke soothingly as she wrapped Sayaka in a warm hug and rested her face against the side of Sayaka's head. "What _matters_ is that both you and Matou are still alive, and as long as you're alive there's hope. You can still get back up and move forward. It won't be easy; there are difficult apologies to deliver, and you'll make more mistakes in the future, just like we all do, but that's life, and if there's something you truly believe in and want to accomplish then it's absolutely worth it. Or at least that's what I think, and I also think that the girl I've known since elementary school—the same girl who cares so much and fights so hard for two strangers she didn't even know existed a week ago—can become the hero she wants to be. She just needs to be honest with herself and never lose sight of the noble desires in her heart."

As she finished, the train slowed and then halted as it reached its next destination, and with a quiet mechanical hiss the doors slid open.

"I believe this is your stop," Madoka announced, giving her friend one more gentle squeeze of support before letting go and standing back. "So, what are you going to do?"

In answer, Sayaka rolled her eyes and smiled wanly. Her expression was still clouded and gloomy, but now there seemed to be some actual mirth on her face.

"I thought you said you didn't come to give a pep talk?"

Madoka shrugged again and pouted cutely.

"That's not _precisely_ what I said..."

"Ha! Well, if that's the attitude you're going to take, then make sure I'm around if you ever square off against Kyubey. It'd be super awesome to see that white furball receive a dose of his own medicine for a change."

Collecting herself, Sayaka rose to her feet and headed for the exit. Before she departed, though, she turned her head back and shot Madoka a grateful look.

"Thanks, by the way. I don't know how you're doing this, but I'm glad you came. You've always had a way of putting things in perspective for me, even when I'm being an idiot and forgetting the totally obvious, and I super appreciate it."

Madoka answered with a beatific smile.

"That's what friends are for. And remember, no matter how far away you are or how desperate the situation you find yourself in, you're never alone. I'll always be with you, watching."

Hearing those final words of reassurance, Sayaka looked ahead, stepped off the train, and woke up.


	9. Ch8 - 'Cause You're a Guy!

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Eight – You're Only Saying That 'Cause You're a Guy!

Kariya sat, breathing haggardly, with his back against an oak tree as the late morning sun penetrated the leafy canopy overhead. The body-wrecking agony of earlier had dwindled to an ubiquitous burning sensation as Berserker's demand for magical energy stabilized and she regained consciousness, and Kariya's mind was now literally kilometers away as he viewed the world through his young servant's eyes. She was in an opulent bedroom with Lancer and his new master, a red-haired, haughty woman who'd introduced herself as Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri. Sola-Ui had, after first inquiring about Berserker's health and his own physical condition, quickly shifted gears to recap last night's battles, but Kariya found it difficult to pay attention.

Instead, the dying Matou's thoughts kept returning to Berserker and the secrets she'd kept from him. Her evasiveness whenever conversations turned to her past was something he'd reluctantly accepted, not wanting to jeopardize their partnership over what was clearly a sore topic for her. He hadn't liked it, and the few glimpses of her life he'd seen through the Dream Cycle had raised more questions than answers, but instead of acting on his suspicions he'd made excuses and delayed. After all, she was just a child, wasn't she? And she was so earnest about being a hero and helping him, surely he could trust her, right?

Wrong. All _wrong_. Not only had that trust very nearly killed last night, but Berserker had lied to him about her noble phantasms, and that revelation infuriated him. How was he supposed to save Sakura if his servant didn't tell him what her ultimate attacks were?! Only the dire necessity of not re-agitating the crest worms as his poor health recovered kept him calm, but it was a tense, simmering calm plagued by troubling thoughts. After all, if Berserker had lied to him about her noble phantasms, what else might she have lied about?

When Sola-Ui finally finished her account and left with Lancer to give Berserker time to speak with her master privately, Kariya felt both relief and trepidation. This time he wouldn't— _couldn't_ —settle for indirect half-answers to his questions. He needed to know the truth about Miki Sayaka, and if he didn't like that truth...He didn't know what he'd do, only that he needed to keep fighting and win for Sakura's sake. Nothing else mattered at this point.

 _Berser—_

 _I'm super sorry about last night, Matou_ , Sayaka spoke quickly and earnestly through their telepathic link, interrupting her master before he could complete his sentence. _I became so fixated on defeating Caster that I lost sight of everything else, and my idiocy almost sent you to the morgue. That's inexcusable, and I should have retreated instead of putting you at such risk. I—_

 _You lied to me about your noble phantasms, Berserker!_ , Kariya interjected angrily, cutting straight to the point and perversely irritated by his servant's contrite tone. _When, exactly, were you going to tell me that you have a damned reality marble?_

 _Reality marble? What are you talking abo—oh! The labyrinth..._

Kariya didn't know what he should read into the brief silence that followed on Berserker's end, but none of the ideas that came to him were good.

 _Symposium Magarum is_ _ **dangerous**_ , Sayaka finally answered, her voice tense and agitated. _I have no control over the labyrinth once it materializes, and using it recklessly could kill me and everyone trapped inside. I was hoping that—_

 _And that's not something you thought I should know?! Sakura's counting on me to win, and I can't do that if you go and use a_ _ **suicide**_ _attack before the end of the war. What the hell were you thinking?!_

Kariya felt the crest worms inside him writhe in response to his anger, and, although he keenly wanted to continue his tirade and rant and scream at his servant until she felt some of this same pain, he forcibly calmed himself. He couldn't afford a relapse when his health was still so precarious, and as he sat there sullenly, collecting himself, his servant's regretful voice came to him again.

 _I_ _ **wasn't**_ _thinking, Matou. That's the problem with us Berserker types—we get so messed up in the head by Mad Enhancement that jumping off the stage at Kiyomizu even with a fiery death trap at the bottom would still strike us as a super awesome idea. Add in that I'm an idiot to begin with, and, well...I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, and not telling you about Symposium Magarum was stupid. I just...it's just...I..._

 _Just_ _ **what**_ _, Berserker? And don't think I don't know that your reality marble isn't the only secret you've been hiding. We've been together for a week, and you haven't told me a single damn thing about your past. After last night, I think I'm entitled to some answers—No, I_ _ **need**_ _answers, damn it, and if you don't give them to me I'll use a command seal to force the truth out of your mouth._

There was silence again on Sayaka's end as Kariya seethed. Under any other circumstances he'd be horrified and ashamed of himself, yelling at a young girl like this, but he was almost at the end of his fuse and he desperately wanted this mystery to end. He couldn't make any concrete plans—couldn't even _trust_ his servant again—until he knew the truth, and for all he actually knew about her Sayaka could be a duplicitous centenarian trapped in the body of a child. After all, if King Arthur was a woman, then literally anything was possible.

 _...Okay, okay. You've got it, Matou, and you're right, too. I should have told you about myself earlier, but it's a long story...and it'd be better if I told it in person. Sophia-Ri also wants to start planning our next move ASAP, so there really isn't time for a backstory infodump, but I promise you that I'll tell you everything you need to know when we next meet up. Can you wait until then?_

 _You'd better keep your word, Berserker. For both our sakes._

With a strained grunt, Kariya ended the mental conversation and returned to his own senses. He didn't like waiting even longer for answers he should have had days ago, but he wanted to see Berserker's face when she told him her supposed life story. He wasn't sure he could believe her if he only heard her voice.

"Gods, what a mess this has become."

Cursing irritably, Kariya clenched his teeth and gingerly rose to his feet. Favoring the left side of his body, he slowly limped around his makeshift camp and began to pack up. Traveling back into the city was stupid, but he'd go mad waiting around here for however long it took Berserker to return with only his own smoldering thoughts for company. The two of them needed to talk, and, in his mind, the sooner the better. One way or another, he'd get the truth out of her and then, somehow, whether his servant was willing and could be trusted or not, he'd win the Grail War and save Sakura. Everything else was meaningless.

* * *

"That definitely could have gone better."

Sighing unhappily, Sayaka leapt off the plush bed and walked over to the triptych standing mirror positioned against the side wall. Her reflection in triplicate stared back at her accusingly, and she frowned at her disheveled appearance. Her wavy blue hair was a mess, there were lines on her face, and she looked utterly depleted. The only saving grace was that her blue and white costume had magically repaired itself while her body did the same for her injuries, but, if anything, the contrast between her immaculate clothes and her own rundown state made her look worse.

"So much for the heroic 'protector of the city' image," Sayaka muttered with bleak humor, tsking once in disapproval. She snapped her right thumb and ring fingers together and watched in the mirror as her battle attire drained away in a sea of blue sparkles and was replaced by her casual outfit of a blue jacket, jeans, and sneakers.

"Better," she mumbled with only partial conviction, her eyes lingering uncomfortably on the silver ring and blue fingernail mark on her left middle finger. She didn't feel much like a hero right now, but those two symbols of her puella magi identity couldn't easily be discarded. She settled for focusing her attention on her hair instead and, finding a comb nearby, attempted to brush it back into place. As an afterthought, she raised a finger to her head and resummoned her golden fortissimo pin to add some flair to her appearance. Sola-Ui projected the same aristocratic, fashion queen vibe Hitomi did as naturally as breathing, and Sayaka wanted to make a good impression. Admittedly, such a trivial thing shouldn't matter since being a heroic spirit was already impressive enough in this world, but she was only masquerading as one, she was a girl too, and thinking about something this inconsequential was better than dwelling on the mess she'd made of things with Kariya.

 _Last night was definitely not one of my finer moments...but I can't say it was one of my worst, either, since there's oh-so-much competition for that stupid honor._

Sighing again, Sayaka banished her unhappy thoughts and tried to think positively. Yes, what had happened was terrible, and most of it was her own fault, but, as Madoka had bluntly reminded her, last night wasn't the end of the world. She and Kariya were both still alive, they were both still in this war, and, depending on how things went with Lancer and his new master, she might even have some good news to share when she finally met up with him again later.

"Besides, I didn't come all this way just to give up at the first sign of trouble. Miki Sayaka, ally of justice, is too stupid to quit!"

Self-deprecation aside, the affirmation made her feel better, and when she fixed one of her trademark carefree, confident smiles on her face it seemed more genuine than not. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she turned and walked over to the door that led to the sitting room where her allies waited.

Sola-Ui was the first to react to her entrance, quickly—one might even say hurriedly—shifting her gaze from Lancer's back to the recovered Servant of Madness and smiling politely. The redhead sat self-assuredly in a white club chair on one side of the room while on the other side, near the windows overlooking the city, the orange-eyed Servant of the Spear stood keeping watch. He turned slightly as Berserker moved further into the lounge and nodded companionably at her.

"Your master is doing well, I trust?" Sola-Ui asked calmly, her light brown eyes watching Sayaka carefully but not suspiciously.

"He's managing," Sayaka answered breezily as she walked to the center of the room and bowed gratefully in the Irishwoman's direction.

"Thank you again for your help last night, Miss Sophia-Ri. If you hadn't stabilized me when you did...well, you probably wouldn't be hearing my lovely voice right now offering you words of gratitude."

Sola-Ui's smile warmed slightly, and she turned her own head back in Lancer's direction. "Think nothing of it, Berserker, and if you should be thanking anyone, it's Lancer. He's the one who saved you from Caster's minions and had the foresight to bring you to me so quickly for treatment."

Lancer's expression became pensive at this praise from his master, but he quickly hid it underneath his usual stoicism. "As Mistress Sola-Ui said, think nothing of it. We are allies, and as long as we remain such you can always count on my aid."

Sayaka nodded and smirked slightly. "I'm super glad to hear that, but don't sell yourselves short either. If you keep saving my skin like this, I'll have to buy some Kumamoto melons or wagyu beef as a thank-you gift and show off my mad culinary slicing skills with a sword. Anyway, you said earlier that you wanted to plan our next move?"

"Yes," Sola-Ui answered, rising to her feet and beckoning Lancer to come closer. "My fiancé is dead, but the partnership he negotiated with your master benefits all of us and I intend to honor its terms. You and your master have nothing to fear from me until you and Lancer are the only two servants standing. In the meantime, however, I want to focus on hunting Caster."

Sayaka's face darkened at the mention of the Servant of the Spell, but she nodded in agreement. Gilles de Rais was a monster, and she wanted him dead. Lancer also looked troubled, but it was for entirely different reasons.

"My lady, I commend your desire to see Caster punished for his horrible crimes, but Master Kayneth's death is a grave dishonor that must be avenged. Berserker and I should return to the Einzbern estate before our enemies relocate, and while she retrieves your fiancé's body I can engage Saber and—"

"No. I don't want you anywhere _near_ Saber," Sola-Ui interrupted hotly, rounding on her servant as something dangerous flashed in her eyes and then vanished so quickly Sayaka wasn't sure it had actually been there. More calmly, the Irishwoman explained herself.

"Father Kotomine's decree still stands. Until Caster and his master are defeated, a ceasefire is in effect. Kayneth may have believed he had the clout to defy censure by the Holy Church, but my family doesn't have the same influence, and a command seal is too great a prize to forfeit over a vendetta. I've already prepared a message for the Einzbern stating my intention to abide by the overseer's truce and recommending they do the same. The message also sets terms for the release of Kayneth's body, but only _after_ the war is over. So long as the mystic code's curse afflicts them, the Einzbern are weakened and have good reason not to target us."

"But if they do so anyway?" Lancer questioned, his tone skeptical. "This is a war, and the Einzbern may prefer to take the risk of kidnapping you and forcing you to break the curse over the disadvantage of leaving Saber's master weakened for an indefinite period of time."

"Then you'll just have to carefully watch over me to keep me safe, won't you?" Sola-Ui rejoined happily. Too happily, Sayaka thought as she added her voice to the redhead's.

"I agree with Sophia-Ri. I wasn't happy about violating the ceasefire in the first place, and all of us know how _that_ decision turned out. Abiding by the ceasefire might not be any safer, but if we're going to face danger it's better to face it doing the right thing rather than the wrong thing. Besides, as important as the Holy Grail War is, innocents— _children_ —are being dragged into it and murdered by Caster, and I'd be a terrible hero if I prioritized our private battles over saving lives."

Lancer, seeing he was outnumbered, bowed his head in acquiescence. "Let it not be said that the First Warrior of the Knights of Fianna does not know when to retreat. However, if Caster is our objective, then we should begin the hunt immediately. The danger he poses to us and to the people of this city will only grow greater the more time he has to recover from last night."

Sola-Ui's lips quirked up slightly as she regarded her servant. "That may be true, but there are preparations of our own we need to make first. I need to present myself to the overseer to be acknowledged as your new master, Lancer, and...well..."

The Irishwoman's gaze shifted briefly to Sayaka—more specifically, Sayaka's clothes—and Sayaka felt an eerily familiar chill race down her spine. She _knew_ the look on Sola-Ui's face. It was the same look Hitomi wore on the rare occasions the beautiful Japanese heiress shed her inhibitions, and it was the equivalent of loudly and boldly proclaiming to the world, 'Screw the rules, I have money!'

"You're coming shopping with me for new clothes, Lancer...to help you blend in with the modern era, just as Berserker here and Saber are doing. You may need to materialize in public to deal with Caster or another enemy, and I won't accept any 'buts' about this. As your master, I _insist_."

Lancer squinted his mesmerizingly poignant orange eyes and appeared slightly nonplussed by the demand, but he shrugged his muscular shoulders agreeably. "I don't see the need, but I suppose I can spare a few minutes to update my attire."

Sola-Ui's smile became almost devious at those words, and Sayaka quickly looked away and raised a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Lancer may have been an expert at reading battlefields, but reading women was apparently a different matter and he clearly had _no_ idea of the ordeal he had just consigned himself to. Fortunately, he had her here to save him!

...

...

...

Although, come to think of it, it would be _very_ nice to see Lancer in a suit...

* * *

Irisviel von Einzbern stood on the balcony of her family's castle and watched the early afternoon sun shine down on the ancient forest that hid the estate from outsiders. In sharp contrast to the violence of last night, a tranquil mood now blanketed the land, and a day ago the white-haired homunculus would have marveled at the serene beauty that was so very different from the unforgiving winter that had been her constant companion back home. Today, though, she was too consumed with worry for her husband to care, and she sighed in aggravated frustration at their situation.

"I finished reading the message Miss Sophia-Ri sent us," she remarked without turning to face her black-haired female companion. "The only surprise is that she's Lancer's new master. Otherwise, she offers to break the curse on Kiritsugu after the war is over in exchange for Lord El-Melloi's body, and she also proposes a private noninterference pact between Saber and Lancer to continue until the war's final battle. It all sounds perfectly reasonable, but what do you think?"

Maiya's face was stern as she stood protectively beside her partner's wife. "Such an arrangement would benefit her the most. We have no reason to believe that Lancer's Gae Buidhe can't counter Berserker's regenerative abilities, and he is virtually guaranteed victory over Saber so long as her left hand remains crippled. If Sola-Ui can arrange matters so that Lancer, Berserker, and Saber are the final three servants, she's all but guaranteed to win the Holy Grail."

Irisviel chuckled softly but with little humor. "Yes, those were my thoughts too, but while Miss Sophia-Ri's strategy looks good on paper we both know what the Grail War does to the best laid plans." Almost subconsciously, she wrapped her arms about herself and pressed her white coat closer to her body, as if the warmth could ward against the memory of last night and her distress at her husband's comatose state.

"True enough, madam," was Maiya's simple reply, her thoughts likewise returning to last night. There was silence between the two women for several moments, and then Irisviel turned around to lean against the balcony's railing and gaze at her castle.

"I repaired the bounded fields this morning, and I've used magic to fix as much of the physical damage to the building as possible. Despite last night's incursion, the estate's defenses remain as strong as ever...which, against a servant, won't do much, but at least we'll have plenty of warning if anyone other than Assassin attacks. I've asked Saber to guard Kiritsugu while he...while he sleeps to deal with that possibility."

Maiya's lips twitched and almost lifted in a tiny half-smile at the thought of Saber's displeasure at having to stand watch over a man she hated, but she soon quashed the petty impulse as beneath her. She didn't think highly of 'heroes'—It had been Emiya Kiritsugu, the cold-blooded mercenary for hire, who'd saved her from the horrific life of a child soldier rather than any knight in shining armor—but there was no place for mean-spiritedness in her profession. Besides, she intrinsically approved of anything that made Kiritsugu safer.

"That is sensible, and with Avalon inside Kiritsugu Saber's proximity will ensure that he remains in good health. Have you made any progress in discovering how to break the curse?"

The homunculus's shoulders slumped, and she shook her head ruefully. "I wish I could say otherwise, but no. My specialty is alchemy, not black magic, and whoever designed Lord El-Melloi's mystic code spared no expense. Nullifying its curse is beyond the skill of the experts Kiritsugu and I know of in the area with the exception of the Sajyous, and inviting them into Fuyuki during a Grail War is too risky. Their family discovered the Grail's true purpose decades ago, and they're more likely to betray us and steal the command seals to reach the Root than help an Einzbern."

"Then abducting Sola-Ui remains our best option."

"Yes, but—No offense to your skills, Maiya—getting to her while she's inside the Hyatt Hotel is all but impossible. We'd have to wait for an opportunity when she's outside and not escorted by Lancer, and the timing would have to be perfect to prevent her from summoning her servant to her side."

Maiya pursed her lips pensively. What Irisviel was saying could be done, but it would be difficult and rely heavily on chance and their enemy's own poor judgement. The only factor that worked in their favor was the ease of monitoring the Hyatt and Sola-Ui's comings and goings.

"And what of the other masters and servants, madam? Kiritsugu taught me enough that I'm confident in my ability to infiltrate the Tohsaka mansion, and Matou Kariya is easily tracked and can be eliminated without drawing suspicion to ourselves."

Irisviel's face scrunched up in thought, and she frowned unhappily, missing her husband's expertise in matters like these. They had, despite how uncomfortable it made her, discussed the possibility of harm coming to him during the war and how to proceed if she needed to take charge, but she had never truly believed any of that planning would be necessary. After all, she was the vessel of the Holy Grail and the one destined to break down as the Grail War neared its conclusion. Compared to that certainty, the chance that Kiritsugu might fall first had seemed phantasmal and unreal. But here she was now, with just that outcome having come to pass, and it was incumbent upon her to lead in her husband's place and ensure the Einzbern emerged victorious.

"No, we'd better not take any actions against the other masters and servants while the Church's ceasefire continues, at least not while they all know where to find us. We could easily become the next target of Father Kotomine's rule changes if we flout his authority too openly. The only exception is Miss Sophia-Ri—if you see a good opportunity to seize her, take it. In the meantime, we'll strengthen our surveillance network and continue our preparations to relocate someplace our enemies don't know about, as we discussed earlier. Until Saber regains her full strength, the castle is too easy a target."

The female mercenary nodded her head affirmatively. "The fallback residence Kiritsugu chose is being appropriately fortified as we speak, but it will be still be another day or two before everything is ready, and creating diversions to slip past the familiars watching this estate will also take time to arrange."

"Heh, what I wouldn't do for Rider's flying chariot right now," Irisviel mused with a hint of her normal merriment, her red eyes briefly filling with innocent mania at the fun she'd have. Maiya, who had not yet known the terror of being in the same car with Irisviel when the homunculus was driving, simply nodded and opened her mouth to speak again.

"If that is all, madam, I will return to completing my assignments."

Maiya turned to leave, but a gentle hand on her left shoulder and a gentler voice stopped her.

"Actually, Maiya, before you go...I want to thank you for all your hard work," Irisviel said warmly, her words heartfelt if a little awkward. "I couldn't do this without you, and I know that my husband, Kiritsugu, he...he deeply values everything you do for him, and I...I do too. If you'd like to stop by Kiritsugu's room on your way out to see how he's doing, please do so. You can spare that much time, and your presence might do him some good."

Hearing those words, Maiya felt an unexpected swell of affection towards the woman who'd captured Kiritsugu's heart, and she also felt a rarely experienced bout of nervousness. Did Irisviel know about the affair she and her husband were having so Kiritsugu could steel himself to her sacrifice? Did Irisviel know about Maiya's own feelings for the man who'd saved her life?

"You...you are too kind, madam," Maiya answered, not knowing what else to say...except one more thing. "Thank you."

* * *

Kotomine Kirei jogged through the city streets of Fuyuki and idly noted as the crowds of people waxed and waned throughout the day. Some passersby gave him curious looks, but none were so impolite as to interrupt the young man in priest's clothing during what they assumed was an afternoon workout. The few who might have been tempted were quickly dissuaded when they noticed the hollowness in his brown eyes and the tightened expression on his somber face, and they instead hurried to give the runner a wide berth.

Kirei should have been troubled by this. As a man of God it was his responsibility to be a shepherd people could turn to in their distress and, while he'd never found satisfaction in helping others, he took the duty to do so seriously. To let his own unease show so plainly upon his face...it was unbecoming and not what anyone would expect of him, least of all himself.

And yet, despite knowing that he should, he did not care. His thoughts were too preoccupied with the events of last night to be bothered by their outward reflection on his features, and the relief he sought in repetitive physical activity as he sprinted through Miyami's northern, traditional neighborhoods remained elusive. He knew he might be questioned by the other masters and servants if he was seen, but he didn't care about that either and Caster's crimes supplied him with a simple alibi. More importantly, his father's church was too much of a reminder right now, a reminder that the answers he sought—that had seemed so close less than a day ago—were now farther away than they'd been at the start.

 _This question of mine...when will I finally be free from it?_

Neither he nor his father nor Tokiomi were pleased by the outcomes of last night's battles. Risei had wanted Caster eliminated above all else, but the madman still lived and continued to involve innocent bystanders in the war. Tokiomi had wanted one or more servants to fall, for the competition he faced in the war to shrink, but the tally of seven servants and seven masters remained unchanged even if at least one of the faces had. As for himself, he had wanted...he did not know what he'd wanted, only that the neutralization of the one man who might— _must!_ —understand him by an unidentified mystic code had not been it. The only truly positive upside to last night was that Assassin had identified Berserker's noble phantasm as her remarkable healing factor. If the young swordswoman had any other combat-applicable powers, she surely would have used them against Caster. And with the nigh impossibility of Saber's noble phantasm being anything other than Excalibur, Rider was the only enemy servant who likely still possessed unknown trump cards.

Not that these discoveries or any of the other results of Assassin's investigations helped him and Tokiomi much at the moment, Kirei mused with a mixture of scorn and apathy as he turned left to follow a bus route. Archer continued to be vexingly recalcitrant to his master's wishes and spent most of his time wandering the city to witness what mankind had achieved and become in his absence. The King of Heroes evinced little interest in the actions of the other servants and even less in fighting them despite the enormous advantages the intelligence he and Tokiomi had gathered would give him. And although Tokiomi hid it well, Kirei could sense the frustration the fire mage felt at having a servant powerful enough to end the war in a single night who showed no inclination to put any of that great power towards actually _ending_ the war in a single night. It was an unenviable position for any man to be in, and Kirei found the thought of it...distracting.

 _No matter. I did not come all the way out here merely to ruminate_ , Kirei reminded himself as he directed his thoughts back to his current mission. Taking a focusing breath, he exhaled and reached out through his mental link with his servant to one of the Assassins.

 _Has the target moved since your last report?_

There was a short pause before Kirei heard Assassin's mental voice—female, sly, and possessing a playful hint of mischievous—answer.

 _Negative, master. Your quarry remains stationary at the next bus stop and, other than occasional twitching, has barely moved in over 15 minutes._

The young priest nodded his head slightly, a reflexive act of acknowledgement, before giving his next orders.

 _Spread out over the area with your partners. Inform me immediately if his servant or any other masters and servants draw near. Do not reveal yourself without my express permission._

 _Understood, master. If you need anything else, you know where to find us._

Assassin's parting remark was said with more irony than Kirei cared for, but such was the pitfall of being the master of a servant with 80 separate personalities. For every one that was a strict professional, there were at least two who viewed everything as an amusing pastime. Still, Kirei knew that a reprimand would have no practical effect, so he let the impetuous comment slide and continued on his way. Soon, the bus stop—a simple, three-walled structure made of glass and steel with a transparent roof over a white wooden bench—came into view along with its lone occupant, and Kirei slowed his pace. What he was doing now was reckless, but one thing he did understand about himself was that he was compelled to seek answers to his question. He knew of one man who might have those answers, and until he knew what had happened to that man his quest could go no further. And so he had sought out and found another man who could dispel that mystery.

"Matou Kariya?"

The Matou master stirred at the sound of his name, and Kirei frowned slightly at the man's sickly appearance. His pallid complexion brought to mind a cancer patient, veins protruded under the left side of his face and his left eye was an opaque white, and an aura of terminal disease clung to the man like a fetid cloud. His disheveled clothes, stained with rust-colored patches that the priest immediately identified as blood, further worsened the impression, and the sight reminded Kirei of his late wife Claudia on her deathbed. That was not a memory he cared to recall.

"Do...do I know you?" Kariya asked sluggishly, more confused than suspicious, as he squinted with his one good eye and struggled to remember if he had ever seen this tall, brown-haired man before.

"No, but you know my father. I am Kotomine Kirei." At the lack of recognition on Kariya's face, Kirei explained further. "I am the son of Kotomine Risei, the war's overseer."

It took another second, but Berserker's master finally made the connection and his mouth opened in an 'Ah' of comprehension. He then raised a hand to cover the same mouth as he broke out in a haggard coughing fit.

"Forgive me if I don't get up...but I'm not, heh, at my best right now."

Kirei could do nothing but agree with that statement. "No, you don't look well at all. My father told me that supporting Berserker was taking a physical toll on you, but his description...understated your condition."

Kariya's coughing fit finally ended, and his expression became bitter.

"It's not just Berserker. Behold, the family magic of the Matous," he announced wryly, gesturing at himself. "You offer your flesh, and your life is slowly devoured. That is the magic's price." The veins on the left side of his face throbbed after he said this and a pained expression crossed his face, but Kariya quickly recovered and focused his lopsided gaze on the priest.

"So, what brings you to Miyami? I heard you'd accepted sanctuary with your father at his church in Shinto."

"As an agent of the Holy Church, I cannot ignore Caster's heinous crimes," Kirei answered quickly, watching Kariya carefully to gauge if the addled man noticed the equivocation and judging that he did not. "And with a ceasefire in effect, I decided to assist in the hunt. However, I should warn you that not all masters and servants may adhere to the truce. I have heard from my father that the Einzbern hired Emiya Kiritsugu the Magus Killer as their assassin, and what I know of the man tells me that he will break any rule to achieve his goals. I can defend myself, but you, in your poor state of health, are vulnerable."

The Matou master laughed hoarsely. "You don't know the half of it. That Emiya bastard tried to blow up the Hyatt Hotel the other night. Hell, if Berserker hadn't gotten there when she did, he might've succeeded. Emiya's gotten what he deserved, though, and we can thankfully all look for Caster now without worrying about a sniper bullet tearing through our brains. That's—heh—extremely fortunate for me since I need all the gray matter I've got right now."

"You sound confident that the Magus Killer is no longer a threat. Would you mind elaborating?"

In response, Kariya shrugged, moved his travel pack to make more room on the bench, and gestured for Kirei to sit down. The priest accepted the invitation and listened intently for the next several minutes as Kariya, frequently interrupted by uncontrollable coughing, slowly recounted the events of last night and what Sola-Ui—Lancer's new master, Kirei learned—had told him about Kayneth's side of the battle. Assassin's master found it remarkably easy to steer the conversation with only a few simple comments inserted here and there, helped by Kariya's own eagerness to talk and his high regard for the Holy Church. Such traits were rare in a mage and possessing both was virtually unheard of, and Kirei found himself beginning to share Tokiomi's opinion that Kariya was unfit for the moonlit world. Unlike his teacher, though, he didn't view that as a negative mark against the man.

"And then Berserker...well, she went even more berserk, and it was more than she could handle. Thankfully, Lancer made it back to the battlefield and drove Caster off before my servant got herself killed. From there the two retreated to the Hyatt to regroup, and Sophia-Ri filled me in on what happened and the nature of El-Melloi's curse after they recovered. It's a retributive mystic code that inflicts a cursed sleep upon its owner's killer, forcing him to relive all his worst memories or something. Serves the trigger-happy bastard right, I say."

"I see," Kirei spoke, his tone solemn but thoughtful, and he nodded as Kariya filled in a few additional details. "So Emiya has been rendered unconscious by a curse that only Sophia-Ri can break. That is most fortunate for you and the other masters looking for Caster."

 _But only until Emiya's allies succeed in laying hands on Sola-Ui, which they will eventually. And once she and Lancer are dealt with, you are almost certainly Emiya's next target._

"Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?" Kariya questioned suddenly, unaware that the priest was envisioning his future demise by an assassin's bullet.

"Go ahead. As a man of the cloth, I am at your service."

Kariya regarded Kirei for several long moments, as if judging his trustworthiness, and then he grinned nastily. It was an ugly expression that looked even worse on the Matou master's gaunt face.

"Why did you turn on Tohsaka? The jerk had it coming, but normally I'm the only one who can't stand the insufferably smug bastard."

Kirei was silent for a long moment as he considered how to best answer the question, and then he released a heavy sigh.

"I sent Assassin after Tohsaka because it was expected of me as a master," he stated matter-of-factly, raising his right hand—gloved, along with his left hand, to hide his command seals—as if in memory. "I have no desire for the Holy Grail and don't understand why the relic chose me, but as a master I was expected to fight for it even though victory and defeat in the war were equally meaningless to me. As such, I discharged my duties, and there's nothing more to it."

Kariya's disappointment at these words was almost tangible, and the priest supposed that the Matou master had hoped to commiserate with someone who also hated Tokiomi. Kirei felt a twinge of sinful pleasure at the man's thwarted expectations which he quickly suppressed, but it was accompanied by an inkling of curiosity so unexpected that Kirei decided to indulge it.

"And what about you, Matou Kariya? You could also ask for sanctuary at my father's church, abandon the Grail War, and salvage what remains of your health, but instead you fight on even though doing so destroys your body. What wish do you desire so desperately that it compels you forward?"

The debilitated, prematurely white-haired, and sickly man took a shaky breath and looked straight ahead for a long moment, as if gazing at something or someone only he could see. When he finally spoke, his words were not at all what Kirei had expected.

"Do you have children? A daughter or a son, perhaps?"

For once badly startled, Kirei's brown eyes widened and his face twitched before he regained his composure. He normally tried to keep his daughter Caren completely out of his thoughts and, between Tokiomi's plans and his own interest in the Magus Killer, he'd largely succeeded. Having her brought up so suddenly by a stranger was disconcerting.

"A daughter. She turned six recently."

Kariya nodded his head, as if that simple statement explained everything.

"Then you understand what it's like to love someone so much that you'll protect them at any cost, even if that cost is your own life. That's why I fight, and that's why I can't stop, even if it is killing me. Sakura...I don't know if you met Tohsaka's family while you were his apprentice, but the damned bastard gave away his youngest daughter to my father for adoption, and that's—"

The Matou master suddenly clenched his right hand in anger, and then he gasped and hunched over in agony as his entire body convulsed. Breathing heavily, the suffering man closed his eyes and concentrated, and the shaking gradually receded. He then turned to Kirei and grimaced hatefully.

"And _this_ is the fate that awaits her if I don't win the Grail and save her," he spoke with a forced calm that utterly failed to hide his desperation. "Sakura isn't mine by blood, but I love her as if she were, and no child anywhere deserves to live through the torture needed to inherit the Matou legacy."

Kirei nodded his head in feigned agreement, although his private thoughts on the matter were far murkier. He understood Kariya's desire to protect Sakura, and he had acted similarly to protect his own daughter when he'd placed her in the care of her late mother's family. However, the danger to Caren had been himself and his own grotesquely warped soul, and he could not say if he had given Caren to her grandparents out of love or mere parental obligation.

"I did, in fact, meet Sakura while studying under Tohsaka," Kirei confirmed quietly. "She was a very kind and polite child, and I can see why you'd want to spare her such a painful ordeal. In her father's defense, though, Tohsaka believes that the acquisition of a prestigious magic crest is the best gift he could give his youngest daughter. For a mage, to be born with power comes with the responsibility to obtain greater power, and by giving Sakura to the Matou Tohsaka has supplied her with the opportunity to surpass her ancestors and continue their dream of reaching the Root."

"And that's supposed to make it _right_?!"

Kirei held up his hands to forestall the rest of the Matou master's disgusted protest.

"I did not say that, and I spoke in Tohsaka's defense only out of obligation. If I were to judge him by conventional standards, then I would agree with you that his actions make him a terrible father. I would not put my own daughter through such torture simply to improve her inheritance."

Fleetingly, Kirei thought again of Caren and imagined her suffering through what little he knew of the Matou magecraft and its initiation rituals. Pleasure and horror coursed through him in a confusing and disturbing combination, and he hastily dismissed the speculation. Looking at Kariya, he instead contemplated the hopelessness of the Matou master's quest. The longer he struggled the closer to death he came, and the closer he came to victory the greater his and Sakura's despair would be when he failed. It was a cruel and tragic downward spiral, and killing him now, suddenly and painlessly, could be considered a mercy.

"Matou, I don't know the severity of your illness, but if you'll accompany me to a less visible spot I can apply some healing magic. My father will be interested in the information you've shared, so consider this a payment for that, and it won't do for your servant to be handicapped by your poor health while she's hunting Caster."

Those were the reasons he gave Kariya as they both rose to their feet and the shorter man followed him into a side street, but deep down inside himself the priest knew he was merely making excuses to mask his actual motivation, a motivation so sinful he didn't dare name it and refused to even acknowledge it—that, in truth, he _wanted_ to see Kariya suffer.

* * *

"The ancient legends were true," Lancer said direly, his handsome face haunted. "From time immemorial sages have warned of the danger, and time and time again brave men have foolishly ignored them. And now I, too, in my pride and hubris, have repeated their folly and only barely survived to become enlightened. The old saying is correct—if you want trouble, find yourself a redhead."

"Amen to that, brother," Sayaka echoed, her features also solemn. "Red hair is the sign of the devil!"

The two reincarnated heroes remain straight-faced for several more seconds before giving up any pretense of horror and erupting in laughter that echoed down the riverfront street they'd stopped at.

"You should've seen the look on your face when Sophia-Ri dragged you into the Verde," Sayaka teased between guffaws. "Not even Caster's hentai-porn rejects scared you as badly as all those salesladies lining up to help you."

"I'm not familiar with the term 'hentai porn' and am wise enough not to ask, but the terror of eldritch horrors is as nothing compared to the frightening passion of smitten maidens," Lancer answered jovially, although there was an undercurrent of sadness in his tone. "I would rather fight Caster's entire army of otherworldly tentacle monsters again than reenter that merchant's den."

"You're only saying that 'cause you're a guy," the blue-haired pre-teen continued kidding, a wide and less than cherubic grin on her pretty face. "Besides, fangirls or not, we can't argue with the results. For someone who's over 1,000 years old, you look damn ~fiiine.~"

With her blue eyes, Sayaka drank in the attractive sight of Lancer wearing a dark teal polo shirt under a casual black bomber jacket, wool-blended dark gray chinos, and a pair of black leather chukka boots. Even with Sola-Ui standing possessively beside the Irish knight throughout the shopping excursion and countering the magic of his enchanted mole, there had still been moments when Sayaka thought he was about to be mobbed by squealing women and giggling schoolgirls taken with the sexy foreigner. Curse or no curse, Lancer's innate masculine charm was potent indeed.

"You are only proving my point, you know," Lancer answered dryly as he crossed his arms in an overly grandiose manner to show he was still joking. "Were you not a fellow knight, I would be worried about the need to protect my honor around you."

"Ha! Sorry to wound your pride, Lancer, but I'm just not that into you. I had my own share of love troubles in life, and I'm not interested in making a second go of it yet. Besides..." Sayaka's voice trailed off, and she glanced to the side and made a few awkward hand motions. "There's...well, there's..."

"If you are referring to the situation between Mistress Sola-Ui and myself, I understand your meaning, and you may speak freely. She is currently sleeping in her hotel suite to be fully rested before nightfall and is not watching us."

Sayaka breathed easier upon hearing that. They'd escorted Sola-Ui back to the Hyatt after she visited the Kotomine Church, but with her master's clairvoyance Sayaka had no way of knowing when the Irishwoman might be watching through Lancer's eyes.

"Okay. In that case—" Sayaka took a deep breath and looked up at the taller spearman with an intent expression on her face. "—what's going on between the two of you? I know this is blunt, and it may be none of my business, but even the most oblivious-to-love idiot hero would notice the looks Sophia-Ri was giving you throughout the day."

Lancer met Sayaka's gaze with his melancholic orange-eyes as he sighed ruefully, and his shoulders slumped with the weight of bitter wisdom.

"Mistress Sola-Ui...is a woman in love with being in love," he said carefully. "She could easily dispel my curse's enchantment with her skill as a mage, but she does not want to. To her, after having her entire life controlled and managed by her family and being denied the opportunity to experience a true romance, this maidenly passion is immeasurably precious to her. It is the tragedy of being born a noblewoman...but nothing can come of it, and she has sworn an oath to conduct herself in a manner befitting her status as Lord Kayneth's fiancée. You should not worry about it."

 _~Love me do!~_

Sayaka shivered uncomfortably, briefly recalling her time as Oktavia and her desperation to find the feeling that had moved her so long ago. If Sola-Ui had anything in common with the mermaid witch, then Lancer's assessment was dangerously optimistic...but this was not something she wanted to think about _at all_ , and she quickly dismissed the unpleasant memories and forced a smile back on her face.

"If you say so, Lancer. You know Sophia-Ri better than I do, and she's been nothing but nice to me so I guess I can give her the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, it'll be dark in another hour or two, so how do you want to start this search?"

Lancer, perhaps sensing his partner's discomfort, instantly went along with the change in subjects and turned to look contemplatively over the broad Mion River.

"The Holy Grail's boundary encompasses over 250 square kilometers, but, at least to begin with, we can ignore the forest, mountain range, and ocean. Judging by how prolific they've been with their kidnappings, Caster and his master must be somewhere in the city. We can eliminate the foreigner's district from our search as well. Your master's family and the Tohsakas live there, and while our enemy is insane he isn't stupid. I've lead us to the Mion River because it cuts through the middle of the city, and from here we can decide whether to start our search in the western half in Miyami or the eastern half in Shinto. Whichever we choose, we'll have to do a neighborhood by neighborhood sweep until we find Caster's trail...and I believe you said earlier that you have tracking magic that can help with that?"

Sayaka nodded her head and smirked, happy to have something to contribute. With a flourish, she extended her left hand, palm up, and conjured her ovoid soul gem. It glowed a vivid blue.

"With this pretty little thing here, I can sense most magic within a range of one kilometer. Less if Caster is using magic to conceal himself, but it should still give me a general sense of his whereabouts or any other magic if we get close. See, look, it's already reacting to you and—"

The blue-haired swordswoman stopped in mid-sentence, sensing another familiar, storm-like magic presence through her soul gem. Gritting her teeth in surprise, she hastily turned her head to face the river and scoured the shoreline on the other side with her augmented eyesight. It took a few seconds, but she quickly found the source of her alarm. And then she promptly did a double-take.

"Hey, Lancer, is that Rider and his master over there on the other side of the river?"

"Yes."

"And Rider is waving cheerfully at us, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"And wearing a goofy t-shirt with a videogame logo emblazoned across the front?"

"If 'Admirable Great Tactics' is a videogame, then yes."

Sayaka felt her eyebrows twitch at the incongruous sight of Alexander the Great dressed like a gaijin otaku, and then, despite herself, she giggled. The man was simply too much!

"Think we should go over there and see what he wants, Lancer?"

"Seeing as how the alternative is him coming over _here_ , which he'd likely do in as loud and showy a manner as possible, then yes, I think that's a good idea."

The two servants dematerialized and made their way across the Mion River to the other side. Rider, wearing the aforementioned promotional t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, greeted them heartily when they appeared while Waver Velvet, dressed in a plain green sweater and matching pants, regarded them cautiously.

"Lancer, Berserker, it is great to see you again, and I like your clothes! Very fashionable!" Rider boomed, slapping the left side of his jeans to emphasize his next declaration. "My master has been similarly gracious with me. Aren't these pants magnificent?"

Sayaka squinted incredulously as Waver sighed long-sufferingly, as though he were used to this ridiculousness and had given up protesting. Only Lancer maintained his composure, and he coughed politely to break the silence.

"Fashion is not one of my talents, so I can only say that your garb appears serviceable, Rider. That, and that I hope comparing clothing is not the sole reason you wanted to speak with Berserker and me. Time is precious in a war, and I do not take kindly to mockery."

Rider laughed gaily in response and waved his hands placatingly. "No need to worry about that, Lancer. I'd be a poor king if I didn't know how to show respect to brave warriors like you and Berserker here. In truth, I have an offer to make. My master—" He proudly gestured at the far shorter Waver. "—has used alchemy to find Caster's lair, and we are on our way to storm it. What do you say to joining us? Conquest is much more satisfying with honorable allies and kindred spirits at one's side! And then you can reconsider my request to join my army afterwards!"

"Rider!" Waver interjected beside him, visibly irritated. "What do you think you're doing? I searched for Caster's lair so we could win the extra command seal, and now you're—"

"Oh, don't worry about that, boy. We don't need a fourth command seal to win this war, and forging friendships—even with enemies!—is a far more valuable reward. Besides, weren't you the one who said earlier that the Caster class is strongest in its lair? What better way to overcome those advantages than to strike together with allies?"

Cowed by his red-haired servant's logic and effusiveness, the young Englishman withdrew his objection and looked away, muttering.

"How did you find Caster's lair so quickly?" Sayaka questioned, taken aback by this stroke of good fortune. She'd been expecting to spend the next few days combing through the entire city, and she wasn't used to things working out so smoothly.

Rider blinked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean? We had all of yesterday and today to search. That's plenty of time for anyone to narrow the hunt, and surely you've been doing the same?"

Sayaka and Lancer exchanged a quick look, and the former shuffled slightly in embarrassment.

"We got caught up in an unrelated matter," Lancer answered simply. "Concerning your offer, though, we accept. Caster's crimes must be stopped, and the sooner he is vanquished the sooner we can return to properly fighting this war. I look forward to piercing your chest with my spear in the near future, King of Conquerors."

"Ha! I like your spirit, Lancer, and if it is our destiny to fight then I promise you I'll make it a worthy battle you'd be proud to have enshrined in song. As for the prize for defeating Caster, we can decide amongst ourselves who is most deserving of it when we feast over the spellcaster's corpse! How about it?"

Sayaka nodded. "No objections here. I don't care who receives the extra command seal so long as Caster is stopped, anyway. I can't forgive anyone who murders children."

"Excellent! I'm looking forward to this battle with the two of you at my side," Rider declared excitedly. He turned and boldly pointed downriver towards the ocean. "Come, for glory awaits us over the horizon!"

Beside him, Waver face-palmed and tugged on his giant servant's t-shirt. "Idiot. Didn't you look at the map earlier? Caster's lair is upriver!"

Without missing a beat, Rider turned again and boldly pointed towards the forested mountain ranges in the south the Mion River flowed out of. "All part of the plan to catch our enemy by surprise, boy! Come, for victory lies ahead!"

The severely put-upon young master sighed again, while Lancer and Sayaka both sweatdropped.

 _Tonight...ought to be interesting_ , the Servant of Madness thought, the strange dynamic between Rider and his master not diminishing her eagerness to confront the Servant of the Spell again. She smiled in anticipation of finally _ending_ that monster, and, despite herself, despite knowing how dangerous it was, there was a hint of bloodlust in her grin.

* * *

Half a dozen Assassins skulked silently through the shadows in the sewers beneath Fuyuki, each with a separate assignment. The first was a young woman with long purple hair that trailed down past her knees. Her body was muscular but graceful, and even with the skull mask hiding her face she was unmistakably beautiful. Among the Assassins, she was their delegated spokesperson, and her task was to observe Rider, his master, Lancer, and Berserker as they invaded Caster's lair. With her among their present number, their master's clairvoyance would almost certainly remain with her rather than jump to any other Hashashin, allowing the rest to move and act unwatched.

The second Assassin was a young man with unruly spiky hair. He was tall and his body lean nearly to the point of emaciation. He had snuck past the eldritch horrors patrolling the sewers and spent the past day watching Caster and his master go about their sickening business. Even for a soul as thoroughly versed and experienced in the arts of murder as himself, what he'd witnessed in the past twenty-four hours made him feel as though he'd died a little on the inside.

The third and fourth Assassins were androgynous twins of indeterminate age. They were short and slender, and they were scouting opposite ends of the sewer network. Their task was to keep an eye out for other possible interlopers and warn their brethren of any surprises.

The fifth was a gnarled hunchback, well-versed in history and other scholarly traditions. As these were not skills the Assassins needed in this Grail War, he was to sacrifice himself and die fighting Caster's minions to provide cover for the sixth.

The final Assassin was a young girl, younger than even Berserker in appearance, and she, unique among all the Assassins, still possessed a child's innocence. Her objective was to _disappear_ , and she gently fingered the skull mask covering her face, waiting and watching for her opportunity to remove it.

She wouldn't need to wait long.


	10. Omake 1 - What Could Go Wrong?

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Omake 1 - What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

And in that moment, the Goddess _understood_. She knew that the Holy Grail was corrupted. She knew what the Matou master sought. She knew what would happen to him if left to his own devices. And she knew what needed to be done...but just to be on the safe side, perhaps she should send Sayaka some help? Her childhood friend could be a tiny bit _reckless_ at times, and it wasn't as if the Matou master was the only one in need of guidance. Honestly, looking at the Grail's choice of masters, it would have been more surprising if the wish-granting device wasn't possessed by a Persian god of darkness!

With the metaphysical equivalent of an omnipresent 'tsk', the Goddess of Hope reached out to the other world and doubled down on her earlier decision. It was time for the tragedy of the Holy Grail Wars to end, and she knew just the girls for the job! ...Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

Akemi Homura flash-stepped her way through the Tohsaka estate's garden, freezing time to navigate around the dense layers of magical wards that obstructed her way and pulling out a handgun from her circular metallic shield to shoot the small red gems that powered the defenses. The bullets found their targets with pinpoint accuracy but always slowed and then stopped just before striking the gems, unable to connect until time resumed. When it did, they slammed into and shattered the precious stones nearly instantaneously.

With what was for Homura painstaking exactness and difficult contortions of her body but to any observer would have appeared to be teleportation, she made her way to the large vermillion gem resting atop the stone pedestal that was the courtyard's centerpiece. She caught her reflection briefly in one of the jewel's many facets—a classical beauty in the Japanese sense, with long and lustrous black hair and sharp violet eyes, looked back at her. She frowned slightly and replaced her handgun with a pump-action shotgun. This gem was the primary power source for the mansion's bounded field, and once she destroyed it the estate's defenses would be blind and the path to Tokiomi would be clear. Carefully, she raised her weapon, aimed, prepared to fire—

 _ **BANG!**_

Someone else fired first, and Homura immediately froze time and lunged to the side out of caution. Turning her head from side to side, she spied the bullet—a yellow, elegantly decorated musket ball—and assessed its trajectory. She then let time resume and watched guardedly as the bullet plowed into the ground in front of where she'd been standing. It had been a warning shot, and Homura lifted her gaze to spy the shooter she had already identified. Warm, amused honey-colored eyes looked down at her from the top of the Tohsaka mansion's roof and unworriedly met her violet stare.

"You know, if you wanted to visit all you had to do was knock politely at the front door," Tomoe Mami remarked serenely as half a dozen percussion-locked rifled muskets floated in the air behind her. "I'm always happy to greet guests and have plenty of refreshments to share. Unfortunately, this isn't a courtesy call for you, is it, Assassin?"

Homura regarded the golden blonde girl evenly and raised her shotgun. "Archer."

Still smiling warmly, Mami reached for one of her own weapons. Privately, though, she sent a telepathic communication to her outward seeming enemy.

 _Tohsaka and Kotomine expect a show, so let's not disappoint them, all right? And don't worry about getting hurt—I promise I'll go easy on you!_

Homura frowned again, ever so slightly, at the mental remark. She knew Mami meant it to be reassuring, a promise that she would pull her punches and not go straight for a devastating kill as she would against a witch, but Homura didn't like the statement's implied dismissal of her own abilities. She had survived in every timeline where Mami had fallen, and, while she wasn't anywhere near Mami's level as a powerhouse, her own skill-set gave her enough versatility to match the older girl in firepower, she was certain.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, and her miniscule frown reversed itself. Their masters in the Holy Grail War expected a show, and it wouldn't do for her to disappoint. Besides, this was a golden opportunity to overcome Assassin's reputation as the weakest class and establish herself as a serious contender in this conflict. And really, what was the _worst_ that could happen if she pulled out the big guns?

* * *

"Tiro Finale!"

Two figures watched on a television screen in a hotel room as the video recording showed a blast of brilliant light before abruptly transitioning to static. The shorter one, a dark-haired woman in a black suit, turned to face her partner, a middle-aged man wearing a dark gray trench coat.

"We lost all of our surveillance cameras in the explosion," Hisau Maiya explained matter-of-factly. "The familiars that survived perished ten minutes later when Archer conjured a 'tea and cake' tank and started firing artillery rounds to take out Assassin's L-16 mortars and surface-to-ship missiles. Needless to say, the remnants of the Tohsaka estate that aren't a smoldering crater have seen better days."

Emiya Kiritsugu did not say anything in response and kept his gaze raptly fixed on the static screen. He wore an unusual expression on his face and, had Maiya not known him as well as she did and experienced something similar herself earlier, she would not have been able to identify it for what it was.

Gun envy.

"I've already contacted our suppliers in the black market and asked for additional military hardware and ex-Soviet weapons," she confided assuringly. "Our own arsenal will be up to par in a few days."

Kiritsugu nodded approvingly. "Good work, Maiya," he said as he took a drag from his cigarette. He had a reputation to uphold, and nobody— _nobody_ —outdid the Magus Killer at his own game.

* * *

Two middle school girls stood several yards apart as they confronted each other at Fuyuki's west bank docks. One had a mane of wild red hair and matching, fiery crimson eyes and wore a dark red dress over a pink skirt, thigh-length black stockings, and red boots. She held the blunt end of a gold and red spear slung behind her neck and over her opposite shoulder with her right hand, and in her left she held a box of chocolate pocky sticks. The other girl had medium length, wavy dark hair and wore an eyepatch over her right eye. Her arms were crossed contemptuously in front of her black and white coat, but her legs shifted impatiently in her white stockings and ankle high black boots, betraying her eagerness to spring into action.

"Great, it's the love freak," Sakura Kyouko, the redhead, remarked at last in between bites of her snack. "Let me guess what your wish is—a hotel room, a bathtub filled with chocolate, and a night alone with that Mikuni bitch."

"Don't insult my love!" Kure Kirika, the insulted girl, screamed angrily before forcibly calming herself. A sneer slowly crossed her face. "Besides, it's not like you have any right to criticize me, little miss suicide pact girl. Please don't tell me you let yourself be summoned as Lancer in this war just so you could go cliff-jumping with that blue-haired, self-righteous idiot 'friend' of yours again."

 _ **Chomp!**_

Kyoko bit down on her next pocky stick with enough force it was a miracle her teeth didn't shatter, and she planted her spear on the ground with a menacing thud. "Oh, you did _not_ just go there. I am so going to pawn your skinny ass, Saber."

Kirika leaned forward and reached out to her sides, and three short, hooked blades instantly appeared in each of her hands.

"Feh, I'd like to see you try, Lancer," she said tauntingly, wielding her weapons like claws. "You'd have to hit me first, and we both know there's fat chance of that happening, you gluttonous tramp."

Both magical girls grinned ferally and began to slowly circle each other, each seeking the perfect moment to strike. However, before their battle could properly begin, they were suddenly and unexpectedly interrupted by a third party—a giant black, multi-spotted, flying clown worm with a stupefied teenager riding on its back.

"SQUEEEE!" the clown worm shouted as it dove into the space between the two combatants, separating them. The pseudo-dragon then flew in a circle and, with a poof of magic, transformed into a remarkably cute, white-haired child with multi-colored eyes wearing a cat-ear knit cap and a pink cloth poncho. The young girl nonchalantly caught the raven-haired boy who'd previously been her passenger as he fell through the air and set the stunned youth on his feet beside her before turning to address her audience.

"Sheathe your weapons, both of you!" she commanded in a cheery voice. "Why waste your time fighting each other when we can join forces and battle for the bestest treasure of all? Join me, and together we'll win the Holy Grail and wish for infinite cheese!"

Kyouko and Kirika both sweatdropped at this pronouncement and, the earlier tension between them having evaporated, exchanged an exasperated look. They then sighed in unison.

"You have seriously messed up priorities, Rider."

Rider, known as Momoe Nagisa in life, looked genuinely and charmingly confused. "What? What could be more important than cheese?"

The Servants of the Sword and the Spear both sighed again. From the looks of things, this was going to be an especially _long_ night.

* * *

Elsewhere at the west bank docks, Sayaka watched the shenanigans taking place and muttered unhappily to herself.

"Those idiots, they're stealing my spotlight! And what does that Kure bastard think she's doing in the Saber class—that class has my name all over it and even shares the same first two letters! She should've been summoned as Berserker or Assassin instead!"

 _Berserker, do you know these three servants?_ , Kariya asked her from farther away, his mental voice nearly as hoarse as his actual voice. He'd practically bust a gut laughing the previous night watching the Tohsaka estate be blown to smithereens, and he still hadn't fully recovered.

"...Nope, not at all!" Sayaka answered unconvincingly as she laughed nervously. "Pay my, uh, incriminating mumblings no mind! I'm just speaking nonsense."

 _Are you cert—_

"Sorry Matou, no time to talk! I've gotta go introduce myself to these total strangers I've never met before in my entire life and challenge Saber to a duel for personal reasons! In the meantime, do me a favor and, uh, keep an eye out for Caster! There's no telling when and where the seventh servant will show up."

* * *

An elegant teenage girl with long, platinum blonde hair politely knocked on the front door of a modern-style Japanese house. Her white topcoat over a silver skirt and matching hat gave her an appearance that loosely resembled a nun wearing a religious habit, and this impression was further strengthened by the air of otherworldly knowledge in her compassionate but sad eyes.

The door opened a minute later, revealing a young, red-haired boy standing protectively in front of a younger, black-haired girl. Both children had golden-brown eyes and regarded the stranger warily, and their oddly dressed visitor placed a hand over her heart sympathetically as she divined their fates. The girl, burned alive by a cursed fire that not only agonizingly ended her short life but scorched all memory of her existence from the older brother she loved and idolized. And the boy, reborn in the same unholy conflagration and fated to walk a torturous path that would see him driven to despair and cursed to an endless existence of death and destruction by the very ideals he had pursued more passionately and determinedly than anyone else. These two children were destined for tragedy, the older girl knew, but with her help they might just be able to change their fates. Moreover, they were her best hope for victory in the Holy Grail War now that she'd _dealt_ with her original, poorly chosen master.

"My name is Mikuni Oriko, but you may call me Caster," she spoke kindly. "May I come in? I have candy."

The boy barely hesitated in his answer, showing incontrovertibly that Shirou was an overly trusting, welcoming idiot even before he was adopted by Kiritsugu and given the Emiya surname.

"Sure!"

* * *

Author's Notes: Kure Kirika and Mikuni Oriko are puella magi from one of the manga spin-off series. Shirou's "sister" is Miyu from Prisma Illya, but her origin is...complicated, to say the least, and she might not exist in the Fate/Zero and Fate/Stay Night canons.

Addendum: Readers have my sincere apologies for the very long wait for this most recent update. I've been in something of a funk since November, and that's had a negative impact on my desire to sit down and do the hard work of writing and editing. The allure of this story has drawn me back, though, and I'm recommitting myself to finishing it. The ideas percolating in my mind for this fanfic want to be written and shared, and I hope you'll stick with me for the ride. Thank you for your patience and time, and those who sent me messages asking me to continue working on this story have my gratitude. As an author, it means a lot to me to know that people want to read more of what I've written.

On an additional note, I've gone back and made very small revisions to the previous chapters. The biggest change is probably eliminating every use of the word "prana" because that term is no longer consistent with the official English translation of Fate/Zero. Please let me know if any uses escaped my notice.


	11. Ch9 - I Thought You'd Come Here to Die!

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Nine – And Here I Thought You'd Come Here to Die.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn!"

The harsh, alien words reverberated eerily inside the large confines of Caster's underground lair, seeming to take on brief lives of their own as they raged against their inevitable dissolution, faded to dissonant whispers, and then vanished to haunt dreams and nightmares. More chanting, equally vile and unearthly, followed as the insane Servant of the Spell continued his dark invocations. Incongruously, he appeared peaceful—even regal—as he read from Prelati's Spellbook, standing tall and proud bathed in the caliginous light of his bloodstained atelier. Briefly, with his crazed thoughts and his rage against God subsumed by greater purpose, hints of the gallant knight who had heroically fought beside Jeanne d'Arc to liberate France could almost be glimpsed beneath his madness.

"Cthulhu fhtagn! Cthulhu fhtagn! Cthulhu fhtagn!"

However, the only witnesses to Gilles de Rais's vestigial nobility were in no state to appreciate it or even understand what it was that they so fleetingly saw. A dozen children and young women stood lifelessly around him, arranged in a spiral that coiled inward to the center of the magic circle Caster had traced in a mixture of human blood and the gore of his water demons and which he now chanted in front of. Their eyes were glazed and their faces vacant, their minds having completely succumbed to the madman's hypnotic spells. Even if someone cut off their arms and legs they wouldn't react, but what Caster planned for them was far worse than any physical dismemberment.

"Cthulhu fhtagn."

"Aiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The entire chamber became pitch black as the agonized screams rang out for nearly a full minute. Loud thuds followed as the bodies collapsed to the ground as if they were puppets and their strings had been cut, and then there was silence. The atelier's pale light slowly returned and revealed the bloodless slaughter of Caster's former audience, now lying prostrate on the concrete floor. Caster, his black eyes remaining fixed on Prelati's Spellbook, casually waved a hand and scores of water demons burst out of the bodies, spraying blood and devouring flesh as they materialized in the world. The masses of writhing tentacles and hungry, razor-toothed maws quickly scuttled deeper into the sewers to join their brethren, and an additional dozen-plus children and young women filed past them into Caster's workshop and stood where their predecessors had just expired. Like them, their eyes were glazed and their faces vacant. Even if, somewhere deep inside their minds, they were aware of their surroundings and intended fates, they had no power to resist.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu—"

Caster abruptly stopped in mid-invocation, his serene state of mind vanishing as fury flashed across his gaunt features.

"Intruders!" he screeched, turning to face the entrance tunnel. "We've been discovered, Ryuunosuke! The Grail's deluded champions are on their way here to destroy our beautiful works!"

"Cool! I hope they enjoy the show I've set up for them!" Caster's orange-haired master shouted back cheerfully from within the tunnel. Dashing, he arrived inside the large workshop a few seconds later, his bishounen features flushed from physical exertion and manic energy. His servant looked at him in befuddlement.

"What?"

Ryuunosuke laughed and, once he was within arm's reach of the much taller Caster, convivially slapped him on the back.

"It's just like you told me the first day we met, big guy. Y'know, about terror having its degrees of freshness and being a dynamic state and all that? It got me thinking, and, while what you've been doing all day is totally _awesome_ , wouldn't it be even _more_ awesome with a curtain raiser? Only a shit magician opens a show with his best magic trick, after all, so I've been busy carting out my own works of art into the tunnels for display. Y'know, to set the mood and offer a sneak peak of coming attractions, as it were."

The Servant of the Spell's bulging eyes narrowed inscrutably for a brief moment, and then he grabbed his master's shoulders and gazed down at the young man in astounded admiration.

"Brilliant, Ryuunosuke! Your keen insights and understanding continue to amaze me. Truly, you are a diamond in the rough in this world of common, ignorant philistines."

"Hey-hey, cut it out, big guy. You're making me blush!"

"But it's true, Ryuunosuke! It's all true! Had I had a partner like you back in Tiffauges we could have toppled the entire Catholic faith with our atrocities! Why, simply _imagining_ what the horrified reactions of the filthy clergy would have been when they investigated my castle fills me with joy!"

Ryuunosuke raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck and looked down in pleased modesty. "You give me too much credit, big guy, but I'm glad you approve. Watching this show is going to be totally _cool_! But, um, hey, not to be a downer or anything, but—" He spared a nervous glance at the creation that had been taking shape in the center of his servant's magic circle for the past few hours. "—are you sure this thing's ready to be debuted? I know you're eager to show it off—So am I!—but true art takes time, and it'd be lame if we botched this because we rushed."

The Servant of the Spell grinned, his mouth stretching hideously wide in demented glee. He clasped his hands together, rubbing them eagerly, as he released his master and turned to face his _masterpiece_.

"Oh, it'll be ready. Beyond a doubt. And, thanks to your perspicacity, my dear Ryuunosuke, our enemies will arrive believing we've already sunk to the vilest of lows and performed the most unspeakable, most unforgivable crimes..."

Still grinning horrifically, Caster reopened his spellbook and turned to the page he'd been reading from.

"...only to discover that we've succeeded in a sin that is far, far _worse_ than anything they imagined. I'm going to _enjoy_ seeing their faces in that moment."

The madman laughed in crazed anticipation, and then he closed his eyes and resumed his solemn chanting of abominable words of ancient and arcane power.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn!"

The earlier terrible cycle of sacrifice repeated itself as Caster's invocations reached their recurring climax, but this time, when impenetrable darkness swallowed all light in his workshop and the tormented screams rang out, something _that should not have been_ stirred within the confines of his magic circle. The horrified exclamations abruptly cut off as their speakers' bodies collapsed to the ground, but, instead of the deep silence that usually followed, there was the sound of a single, uncanny heartbeat.

In the grim darkness of Caster's workshop, something terrible had just been born.

* * *

Standing in the back of Rider's Macedonian war chariot, Sayaka watched wide-eyed as the two divine bulls pulled the powerful conveyance down the absurdly spacious sewer tunnel deeper into Fuyuki's industrial water storage system. Behind her, stretching back as far as the eye could see, were the splattered remains of dozens upon dozens of Caster's multi-limbed water demons. An equal number scuttled and slithered in front of them, but without Prelati's Spellbook to bolster their regeneration and endlessly spawn more the otherworldly horrors were simply no match for the supernatural oxen's lightning-infused hooves. The two black bovines lowed loudly as they trampled everything in their path with abandon.

"You see? I was right, wasn't I? Things are working out splendidly!" Rider proclaimed even more loudly as he held the chariot's reins in one hand to steer and gaily slapped his young master on the back with his other hand. Waver barely reacted as he took in everything with a dazed look in his eyes, almost but not quite overwhelmed by the impossibility of what he was seeing and doing and who he was seeing and doing it with. Lancer, for his part, remained silent as he stood in the back with Sayaka, his keen eyes keeping watch for possible traps and other hidden dangers.

 _Note to self—fighting Rider in a confined space is a_ _ **very**_ _bad idea. Don't do it_ , Sayaka thought with a mixture of vindictive satisfaction and unpleasant anxiety. It felt _good_ seeing the monsters that had pushed her into madness last night shredded as easily as tofu, but it was also further evidence that Rider was in a league above her own. And since she needed to get past him at some point to win the Holy Grail...well, what she was seeing now wasn't exactly what she'd call confidence building.

"There's light around the next corner," Lancer announced as the bull-driven chariot continued carving its destructive path through the water demons. "Caster is undoubtedly aware of our presence by now, so he must want us to see what's ahead. We should all be on-guard."

Rider nodded his head in agreement. "Indeed. Brace yourself, boy. There's no telling what a twisted mind like Caster's has prepared for us."

 _That_ got Waver's attention, and the young man looked up at his much taller servant peevishly. "Don't mock me, Rider! I'm not a child who needs—who needs..."

His voice trailed off tremulously as the chariot rounded the bend and entered a new section of the tunnel devoid of water demons. Instead, the sewer passage was filled with horrors of a far worse, despicably human kind. For one long, appalled moment, all of them—King, Knight, Swordswoman, and Mage—stood still, rendered speechless by the abhorrent scenes lined up on both sides of the tunnel. Waver broke the silence first by leaning over the side of the chariot and heaving in revulsion.

"On my word as a knight, I have never seen anything this _loathsome_. Even the Fomorians would be disgusted by this," Lancer spoke coldly, his normally handsome face contorted in a visceral repugnance that deepened with each passing second at what he saw. The corpses of young women and children stood brazenly erected along the corridor, each horrifically ravaged in a different and sickeningly cruel manner. Three—a mother and her two children, judging by their similar features—had been forcibly conjoined into a misshapen, torturous whole, forced to simultaneously witness, share, and inflict pain upon each other. Near them, a naked woman stood with her own bloody hands squeezed around her throat, a body raked and gouged by her own sharpened nails, and her intestines pulled out of her chest and wrapped around her like a hideous body necklace. The horrified expression on her face made it clear that she'd been an unwilling participant in the self-mutilation. And beyond her...Lancer refused to let his mind supply the revolting descriptions, choosing instead to see without processing what he saw as he searched for traps hidden among the _heinousness_. Despite that, he knew that these images—agonizing, terrified final moments cruelly stretched out and preserved as sculptures of flesh—would haunt him for the rest of his existence as a servant.

Rider, his voice uncharacteristically somber, placed a reassuring hand on his recovering master's back. "Your reaction is normal, boy, and I would punch anyone who could see this and remain unmoved. However, now is not the time for emotion. We are in Caster's lair and could be attacked by our enemy at any moment. As hard as it may be, we mustn't let this confound our wits."

"How...how can you be so _calm_?" Waver demanded angrily as he looked up, upset at his servant's poise but even more upset at his own lack of it. "This is...this is..."

"A crime against civilization," Rider answered evenly. "A monstrous deed conceived by even more monstrous men. My heart seethes with rage at the sight of it, but if we let our anger get the better of us and act foolishly because of it...that'll only benefit the very person who committed these abominable deeds, and that may well be Caster's reason for doing all this in the first place. When Medea of Colchis fled her homeland with Jason she dismembered her own brother to stop the pursuit, and history is full of other—"

"That's not it," Sayaka interrupted, her voice almost a hiss as her eyes completed their own survey of the desecrations and narrowed in indignant rage. The air around her briefly roiled as something dangerous and atavistic stirred within her furious gaze but then, with the shameful memory of last night still fresh in her mind, she forcibly calmed herself. Somewhat. Her fists clenching in anger, she elaborated.

"At least, that's not all of it. On the night of Caster's summoning, I found the site his master used for the ritual...and the victims he left behind fit this same MO. Whoever Caster's master is, he's a super-twisted serial killer who murders people for the fun of it."

"Th-then our purpose here is clear," Waver spoke, still pale and stammering but doing what he could to steady himself. "A p-person like that h-has no right to call himself a m-master, l-let alone a human being! Rider, as your master I command you to stop him and his servant."

It was more a plea than anything else, a cry from a frightened child seeking to appear braver and more dignified than he truly felt, but the King of Conquerors grinned when he heard it and answered with encouragement.

"That is an excellent order, master, and I will happily carry it out. There can be no negotiations with madmen such as these, and I will make both Caster and his master regret the day they conceived their depraved crimes! Onward we go. Hiyah!"

The two divine bulls responded immediately to their master's command and, with primal bellows, charged forward. Lightning crackled and flared around the black oxen as they barreled down the tunnel, and the gruesome gallery quickly receded behind them. Before the disfigured dead completely disappeared from view, though, Sayaka turned her head back to look at them one more time, a pained expression on her face and dark thoughts flittering through her mind. If only she'd gotten here earlier...if only she'd managed to stop Caster last night...if only—

A strong hand came down comfortingly on her right shoulder, and she turned, looking up to meet Lancer's understanding gaze. He squeezed, gently but firmly, and she gave a slight nod of thanks in return for the supportive gesture, grateful for the distraction. He nodded back and inclined his head towards the darkness that lay ahead in the tunnel. His handsome, grief-tainted face became unforgiving as he peered into that blackness, and his silent message reached Sayaka loud and clear.

Caster would not leave these sewers alive tonight.

* * *

Pain beyond anything to which the name of pain is given tore through the mind and body of Harada Kaeda, horrifically ripping the young schoolgirl from the magical thralldom that had imprisoned her in unthinking terror for days but which now she would've traded anything to return to. Her consciousness shattered and broke under the excoriating assault, but there was nowhere to hide from the agony and the white-hot torture denied any darkness to blackout in.

And then, it became worse. _Everything_ was wrong. Kaeda could not see, and she could not move. It felt like she'd been impaled by thousands of searing needles and buried in a pit of burning coals but a hundred times more terrible. Nothing made sense and nothing was familiar; every sensation and every feeling was alien except for the pain, and it was too much. She wanted to scream but she could not. She wanted to run away but she could not. She wanted to _die_ but she could not. Everything had been taken away from her except her own awareness, and that awareness was comprised solely of suffering and her own nightmarish powerlessness in the face of it.

And then, it became worse. _Something terrible_ reached into the very core of her being, violating her so profoundly as it gathered up the shattered shards of her identity that even the indescribable pain of before seemed preferable, and then it hungrily _swallowed_.

Suddenly, Kaeda could see again, but the sight wasn't of any type she knew as shapes with neither color nor detail appeared in her mind's eye through means completely unfamiliar to her. Suddenly, she could move again, but she wasn't the one doing the moving and nothing felt as it should. Suddenly, the pain was gone and she could think clearly again, but intermingled with her own hysterical thoughts were those of dozens of others and a primal, forbidden hunger that terrified her.

 _What...is...happening...to...me?_

And then, it became worse. Understanding dawned, and Kaeda screamed in horrified realization but heard nothing except the noise in her own mind as other terrorized voices joined her own. The sheer volume quickly became torturous, but no one stopped and the noise increased further until _something terrible_ reacted angrily.

And then, yet again but not for the last time as new horror followed new horror for the young girl and those suffering with her, it became worse.

* * *

The first sight Sayaka saw when Rider's chariot plowed forward out of the sewer tunnel into the far larger subterranean silo that comprised Caster's lair was a veritable sea of water demons. The tentacled maws were everywhere, covering almost the entire floor, clinging to the walls and ceiling, hanging from pipes, and packed so tightly together they had nowhere to go except over each other. Anyone who charged into that host would be overwhelmed and devoured by sheer numbers within seconds unless they fought even more ferociously than the hungry, multi-limbed legion.

The second sight to catch the puella magi's attention was Caster himself. The Servant of the Spell wore his usual muddy black robe and stood in the single patch of concrete floor not teeming with his monstrous minions. There was a cruel, mocking, and disturbingly _happy_ smile on his face, and he clutched Prelati's Spellbook in his left hand as if it were a sacred relic. Sayaka's stomach churned the instant she laid eyes on the arcane tome; the vile book reeked of even viler magic, and its aura was sickening.

Beside and standing slightly behind Caster was a lean, orange-haired young man with a manic gleam in his brown eyes, but Sayaka's hostile gaze only settled on him for a brief moment. Instead, her blue eyes were drawn to the large eldritch abomination laying prolongated on the floor behind the two men. The monstrosity was nearly three times the size of its smaller brethren but, unlike the others, it had a swollen, bloated appearance and quivered and trembled in unsettling paroxysms. Tiny tinctures of occult light flashed in the air around it as the monster twitched, restraining the creature, and something about the giant water demon set Sayaka's entire body on edge as she looked at it, although she was at a loss to explain why.

Caster was the first to speak and his tone was inordinately cheerful, the voice of a child eager to share a wondrous secret.

"Welcome! We've been expecting you, oh tragic, blind champions of the Holy Grail! I had hoped the lovely Jeanne would be with you tonight, but she is a beautiful angel worth waiting for and your deaths will make a wonderful present for her!"

Lancer scoffed and, raising Gae Buidhe, pointed the yellow spear at the Servant of the Spell.

"Your ideas of courtship are as deranged as your demented crimes, but in this one instance you are not entirely off the mark," the Irish knight spoke coldly, steel in his voice. "News of _your_ death would be a fine present for Saber! Prepare yourself, for I'm here to finish what I started last night and kill you."

The insane servant smiled crookedly. "Oh? And here I thought you'd come here to die."

Lancer opened his mouth to reply, but Rider spoke first, his tone conversational but containing a hint of deep and dangerous displeasure.

"Well, it's really all a matter of perspective," the Macedonian conqueror explained slowly, his eyes scanning the chamber and taking in every detail before settling firmly on Caster and his orange-haired companion. "Attacking a Caster-class servant in his lair where he enjoys every advantage available to him could be construed as a death wish, but I can just as easily say the same about your willingness to confront three servants simultaneously. Victory will decide whose foolishness is greater...but before that, I have a question to ask. The bodies in the tunnels leading here...were they your victims, or your master's?"

The young man beside Caster all but preened as he stepped forward and nodded his head in affirmation. "Yep, those'd be mine, guilty as charged! What'd you think of them? Letting the dead know the exact time and circumstances of their death...it has an artistic dignity, wouldn't you agree? The name's Uryuu Ryuunosuke, by the way, and it's a pleasure to meet you. Thanks for being my first audience tonight."

" _Artistic dignity_?!" Sayaka spluttered incredulously, her eyes leaving the sickly alien abomination to glare furiously at Ryuunosuke instead. "Is that your only reason for murdering women and children? Because you think it's cool?!"

Ryuunosuke looked at the blue-haired swordswoman as if she'd grown a second head. "Eh? Of course I kill people because it's cool. Why wouldn't I? If it wasn't cool, there's just no way in hell the guts of living things would be as awesome and colorful as they are. The same goes for what you do, doesn't it? Honor, courage, and hope...they're totally cool, but so are screams, blood, and total despair. These opposites and extremes make the whole world unbelievably wondrous and amazing, and if you didn't have cruel and demented villains like us to play against I bet you four would be totally bored out of your minds."

Sayaka grimaced, sickened by Ryuunosuke's twisted logic, while Lancer narrowed his eyes angrily, insulted by the insinuation that he should be glad about what the sociopathic master and servant had done. Waver boggled, the expression on his face making it clear he thought both Caster and Ryuunosuke were insane. Rider frowned but otherwise appeared unmoved. Caster, though, had turned at his master's words and now gazed at the young man with borderline religious reverence.

"Yes, that's it precisely, Ryuunosokue! Your wisdom continues to astound me! I am honored to be your servant...and speaking of screams, blood, and total despair, I think it's time we revealed our masterpiece to our guests. Or would you prefer to draw out the suspense further?"

"Nah. I've been totally waiting for this moment all night. Do your thing, Bluebeard, and I'll—"

 _ **Shiiiiing!**_

The sound of a cutlass cutting through the air drew everyone's attention, but the conjured weapon's flight came to a premature end when one of the many water demons leapt in front of the blade's path. Caster watched with amusement as his impaled defender collapsed in front of him, the magical weapon already being ejected from the abomination's body as it regenerated. Then, grinning in sickening delight, he looked at his attacker.

"If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask, Berserker. I am _always_ willing to make time for children."

Sayaka's blue eyes twitched, reading everything Caster had intended and more into his proclamation, and a new cutlass materialized in her hands.

"Shut up! We're here to avenge the innocent lives you murdered, Caster, not chitchat, and I don't need to see _another_ one of your disgusting crimes to want to tear your head off with my own two hands! What makes you think we'll give you the time of day to cart out your next horror?"

His grin becoming shark-like, Caster raised a hand and a host of water demons appeared out of the darkness in the entrance tunnel behind them, blocking their exit. Simultaneously, the water demons surrounding them hissed and tensed, bristling with murderous intent that was only—barely—restrained by their summoner's command. Violence would break out the instant anyone moved to attack again, but, even knowing that, Sayaka was eager to fight. She _wanted_ to fight. Shooting her companions glances to see if they were ready, she was surprised when Rider held up a hand to her telling her to be patient.

"No. Let us see this 'masterpiece' Caster and his master have prepared. I want to take the full measure of these madmen before we battle."

Sayaka, Lancer, and Waver all shot questioning looks at Rider while Caster laughed.

"Haha! You talk as though you have a choice in the matter, you blind fools! My greatest crime is already in front of you, and you haven't even realized it yet! You think you've seen horror? You think you understand sin? You believe you know the depraved depths the human mind can sink to? You are all _ignorant_ , but fear not for I, Gilles de Rais, shall enlighten you!"

Caster and his master both stepped to the side to make the bloated water demon behind them fully visible. Ryuunosuke was grinning like a child and appeared ready to break out into joyful dance at any moment as Caster looked down at Prelati's Spellbook and chanted a single word from the magical text. And then, the monster behind him screamed.

 _"Aiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"_

 _"Saaaaaaaaaave meeeeeeeeeee!"_

 _"Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill meeeeeeee!"_

 _"Please-gods-make-it-stop-MAKE-IT-STOP-MAKEITSTOP!"_

 _"Mommyyyyyyyyyyy!"_

 _"Scriiiiiiisssss!"_

Dozens of voices, all mingled together into one horrifying, deafening cacophony, emerged out of an alien orifice never intended for human speech. They screamed in anguish, insanity, suffering, and despair, and screaming with them was the equally tortured shriek of the water demon itself.

Caster spoke another word, and the screeching stopped, magically muted. He then looked at his enemies, madness dancing in his bulging black eyes and his demented grin nearly splitting his face.

"Do you see now? Do you understand? I have created a monstrosity that feasts on souls, ripping them from the bodies of its victims and trapping them forever inside its own mind, where they _feel_ the monster's hunger for flesh and blood and its _pleasure_ as it gorges on the living and the dead! Ah, but even better, the monster too becomes a victim, forced to feel the despair and terror of those it kills but compelled by its own hunger and instincts to continue killing and stealing more souls! The humans feel what it's like to be a monster and the monster feels what it's like to be human as their shared suffering intensifies into collective insanity! It...it's truly beautiful, isn't it? _Isn't it?!_ "

Reactions to this pronouncement varied widely. Ryuunosuke clapped enthusiastically, hanging on Caster's every word. Lancer scowled, angry and disgusted. Sayaka shook with rage, seeing red and only restrained by a horrible suspicion that terrified her. Waver turned pale and gaped, staring at Caster, Ryuunosuke, and the altered water demon in horror. Rider didn't react at all, but his usual mirth seemed to drain out of his face as something hard and unforgiving took its place.

"You monster!" Waver yelled, his voice squeaking as he pointed an alarmed, accusing finger at the Servant of the Spell. "That-that's forbidden magic of the worst kind! What could have possibly motivated you to do something so terrible?!"

Caster's eyes briefly settled on Sayaka, and dread clutched at her heart when she saw the genuine _gratitude_ in that crazed gaze. The madman's next words simply confirmed what she had already realized.

"Let's just say...that I found a new _source_ of inspiration, shall we?" he spoke, his tone oscillating from calm triumph to crazed exultation and back again. "Besides, I think you should be more concerned about your own glorious fate. Congratulations, boy! You and your heroic _spirits_ are trapped in my lair with a monster that eats _souls_! Soon, you will become enlightened to true beauty and harmony as part of my masterpiece. You will have a front row seat as my monster devours the people of this city, and you will bear witness when Jeanne sees this present I have created for her and finally, finally, _finally_ turns her back on God! I—"

Sayaka snapped before Caster finished his speech. Screaming in blind fury, she tensed and prepared to lunge straight at him, heedless of the alien horde she'd have to hack through to reach him. However, a large, powerful hand came down on her shoulder before she could take a single step. Glaring angrily, she looked up at Rider...and froze.

"Caster, and you, Uryuu Ryuunosuke, what you two have done is unconscionable and outrageous, and I no longer acknowledge you as fellow men," Rider proclaimed in an unsettlingly _calm_ voice. He was clearly infuriated, but his wrath was like raging water buried beneath thick ice, powerful and lethal, presently contained but with the potential for the ice to crack and break at any moment. On the ancient conqueror's battle-hardened features, it was absolutely terrifying to see.

"You are less than beasts, and I will put you down like animals."

Caster laughed, as if Rider had said the most hilarious thing possible.

"You? Punish _us_? Ha! For eight years I murdered and defiled day after day, committing spectacular atrocities the likes of this earth had never imagined, but no punishment came and God completely ignored my crimes! If God himself refuses to punish me, then by what right do you?!"

Rider smiled mirthlessly and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at Caster almost pityingly. Then, the air pressure in the chamber increased, and a strong elemental wind began to blow.

"You ask me by what right I judge you? By what right I punish you? So be it, Caster. You shall have your answer."

The gale winds intensified, howling as they buffeted everyone and everything inside Caster's lair. Filaments of white light appeared, cracks in the world, dancing in the air, and then, centered on Rider, there was an explosion of that same white radiance. The blast raced outward, encompassing all of them in an instant, and Sayaka instinctively raised an arm to shield her eyes against the blinding brilliance. When she lowered it a second later, she was somewhere else entirely and rendered speechless for the second time in nearly as many minutes.

 _A...a witch's barrier? But that's impossible!_

Surrounded by swirling desert sands rich in magic that was distressingly familiar to her, Sayaka could barely see Lancer and Waver standing next to her in Rider's war chariot. Of Rider himself there was initially no sign, but as the wild winds raced on and the sand settled around them she saw him standing several feet ahead. Further still, Caster, Ryuunosuke, and the entire host of water demons that had been with them milled about in bewilderment. Almost a quarter of a mile separated the two parties, but that distance was a drop in the bucket compared to the full size of this world. Endless desert stretched from horizon to horizon as a bright, blazing sun shone overhead. And then, from behind them, there was the tumultuous sound of thousands upon thousands of marching feet. Sayaka, Lancer, and Waver all turned, and all three gasped at the sight awaiting them.

Soldiers. Tens of thousands of soldiers stretching almost as far back as the horizon itself, young and old, from Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. They stood proudly as they marched in their many formations, clad in ancient Macedonian, Persian, Indian, and other types of body armor and carrying weapons and armaments as varied and diverse as themselves. Crimson and gold banners fluttered high above them as they advanced, stopping only when the frontmost column reached Rider's chariot. From somewhere within the vast, peerless host, a war cry erupted that was swiftly taken up by the whole multitude, filling this entire, impossible world with exultant cheers.

"Behold my endless armies!" Rider proclaimed with the utmost pride. "Their bodies have been destroyed and their souls offered to the world as heroic spirits, but they still pledge their loyalty to me and answer my call! They are my greatest treasure and my right to rule. They are proof of my kingship, and by my _right_ as king I sentence you to death, Caster. You shall fall before the might of my ultimate noble phantasm, Ionian Hetairoi!"

A massive black warhorse with a white star on its brow emerged from the legendary army and approached the King of Conquerors. It was a giant in the same respects as its master, as tall and strong compared to others of its species as Iskandar was compared to his fellow men. Its blue eyes gleamed with incomparable loyalty and unrivaled fierceness, and Rider greeted the horse warmly, affectionately rubbings its head.

"It's been a long time, partner."

Bucephalus neighed happily as Rider expertly mounted the famous stallion. Turning slightly to the gobsmacked Sayaka and awed Lancer, he nodded his head at them.

"Berserker, Lancer, I'm going on ahead to smash apart our enemy's army with my own. The Caster class is tricky, however, and our foe may yet have more surprises for us. I entrust my master's safety to you and ask that you be on guard. Gods willing, we shall meet again soon!"

Drawing his spatha, Rider raised and lowered it in a signal to advance and yelled a battle-cry. He charged forward on his horse, and his army followed like a thundering flood washing over the desert. Sayaka could only watch breathlessly as they ran past her in their thousands, her thoughts awhirl.

 _H-how?! How is Rider doing this? It's a witch's barrier complete with familiars...but it's not at the same time! I-is he even sane? I thought this was only possible if one was totally bonkers...Is there another way? Gods, how am I ever supposed to defeat_ _ **this**_ _?_

The impossible, miraculous world around her offered no answers to her questions, and Sayaka stood still, frozen in place, as the true enormity of her task and the caliber of the opponents she faced finally sank in. It was not a pleasant realization.

* * *

Author's Note: For some reason, FNet did not change the "Update" date when I uploaded the previous batch of chapters in April. I'm hoping that error has been fixed and that these two new chapters will properly notify readers of the update.


	12. Ch10 - Secret Superweapon Sayaka!

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Ten – Secret Superweapon Sayaka!

The horrors summoned by Prelati's Spellbook were water demons from the abyssal depths of another dimension. Invited into the world by sacrifices of flesh and blood, they could regenerate, revive, and multiply endlessly so long as they continued to receive mana from the blasphemous arcane grimoire. Saber, Lancer, and Berserker combined had slain hundreds of them the previous night and had still been on the cusp of defeat as the alien monsters respawned unremittingly, and now almost their entire number had been gathered together in one spot. They were a horrific cancer, a nightmarish blight with no right to exist in the world of men. They were _legion_...and they were completely outmatched.

Ionian Hetairoi's Army of the King was peerless. Tens of thousands strong, comprised of the famed warriors who had followed Iskandar across the known world during the King of Conqueror's life, recreated by their combined will in defiance of the laws that govern time and space. The soldiers were heroic spirits in their own right, legends who had conquered kingdoms, founded dynasties, and left indelible marks on human history, and yet each of them deemed these great and mighty accomplishments inferior to the precious, inestimable honor of being one of the King's companions. Having shared joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies, life and death, they had forged indestructible bonds of friendship with each other and with their king. Their fellowship was such that no obstacle could stand between them and Iskandar's call-to-arms, and now, reunited again in their full splendor and strength, the legendary army marched against the alien horde without fear or hesitation.

Hundreds against thousands, monsters against heroes, a nightmare against a legend. The winner of such a battle was already a foregone conclusion before the first blow was struck, but the water demons—ruled by instincts and their horrific hunger—did not know this and could do nothing except fight and listen to their summoner's frantic guidance. Those closest to Caster linked tentacles and collapsed inward, fusing together into a hideous stronghold of pulsating flesh and shrieking maws to shield the Servant of the Spell, his master, and their profane _masterpiece_. Those farther away arranged themselves into concentric circles with interlocking gaps to allow the water demons in the interior to fortify those in front at the first sign of a breach. To advance through them to reach Caster, Rider and his army would have to fight for every inch of ground.

The Army of the King took no issue with this. Lightning-fast cavalry units detached to encircle the enemy and cut off retreat while the infantry advanced in their famous Macedonian phalanx formations, their 15-plus foot long spears held ready. Artillery, launched by ancient siege weapons and fired by veteran archers, soared through the air high above the soldiers before falling in their parabolic arcs on top of the enemy to devastating effect. Rocks smashed and arrows perforated the front lines of the water demons' hastily constructed defensive configurations, creating openings in the massive swarm that were immediately exploited by the approaching infantry with their weapons.

 _ **Shik!-Shank!-Shik!-Shunk!-Splitch!**_

"Scriiiiiiisssss!"

Countless alien screams reverberated across the battlefield as spears and pikes impaled the frontmost water demons. The fetid smell and fecund sound of bubbling flesh attempting to regenerate followed almost instantly, but the recovery—even augmented by Prelati's Spellbook—wasn't nearly fast enough. Rider's army was an advancing, unstoppable wall, a juggernaut striking with unrelenting force as it proceeded systematically forward. The soldiers marching in the second rows of the armored columns pulled back on the lengthy sarissas, yanking the pierced monstrosities toward the warriors in the first rows who then hacked their inhuman foes apart with their bladed sidearms. The water demons who attempted to avoid the second wave of thrusting spears by leaping above the conquering army were pincushioned by artillery and then stabbed by the angled polearms held by the soldiers farther back as they plummeted. The butchered alien remains bubbled and frothed in regenerative fervor, but they were just as quickly cleaved, slashed, and hammered apart by each advancing soldier passing over them. The Army of the King could not destroy its opposition and did not try; instead, it pulverized the water demons until only bleeding detritus remained and then used its sheer numbers to keep them crushed underfoot as it marched forward.

Caster saw all this from within his redoubt of flesh and its walls lined with malformed, alien eyes limned with scenes of the one-sided battle, and he cursed. He watched as his layers of defense were ruthlessly peeled back one by one and step by bloody step, and he raged. He observed as his summoned horrors were slain, rose, and were slain again, and he exploded in fury.

"Damn them! Damn them all! This was supposed to be my moment! My triumph! My means of finally freeing my beloved Jeanne from the horrid shackles of her faith! They'll pay! All of them! I'll _make_ them pay and suffer indignities the likes of which not even infernal Minos would dream up!"

Looking around frantically, the Servant of the Spell tried to find something—anything!—he could use to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, but no dark miracle presented itself. Rider's army was advancing too quickly for him to cast any of the greater rituals inscribed on the profane pages of Prelati's Spellbook, and he was cut off from the magics of his workshop while trapped inside this reality marble. There was nowhere for him to retreat and nothing he could do, and, soon, his gruesome war against God would be over. That thought—that he'd be murdered again after seizing this second chance and finally devising an atrocity so horrific it would shatter the world's faith in a just and loving heavenly father—infuriated him, and Caster screamed again. Not like this. Not like this! NOT LIKE—

A hand came down consolingly on his left shoulder, and Caster turned in surprise. Ryuunosuke gazed back at him, his face tranquil and composed.

"It's okay, Bluebeard. I understand how ya feel, but it's all okay. Sure, this isn't how I wanted things to end—There are still so many new and interesting ways to kill people I want to see!—but hey, what we did together...it was cool. No, better than that, it was the _coolest_! The coolest of the cool, big guy! I have no regrets, and if we've gotta die for the sake of our art...eh, at least we died doing what we love."

"Ryuunosuke..." Caster murmured softly, genuinely touched by his master's words...and then, his feverish, frantic mind latching onto them and finding diabolical inspiration, he threw his head back and laughed madly.

"Hahahaha! Brilliant, master! Absolutely brilliant! You are too insightful for this cruel, hateful world, and because of that you must survive! At all costs! I've reached my end and have only one last blasphemy to commit...but you, you can still go further and enlighten humanity through death and desecrations! I entrust the future to you!"

"What're you talking about, big gu—" Ryuunosuke's confused question was interrupted by a shroud of purple-colored magic that wrapped around him, sheathing the orange-haired young man in a protective barrier. His mouth then opened in an "O" of horrified understanding as he realized the meaning of his friend's words, but before he could plead with his servant to rethink his decision or use a command seal to compel him otherwise the second component of the shroud's magic took effect and his eyes closed in sleep. Caster looked at his shielded master one last time to ensure he was safe and then, smiling fatalistically, he turned to approach the malformed chamber's third occupant. The agonized and crazed water demon silently growled, screamed, and wailed in response, its voices still muted.

"What a fool I've been," Caster stated in an eerie tone that was both defeated and triumphal. The alien eyes surrounding him showed scene after scene of Rider's army slaughtering his minions and drawing ever closer, but the Servant of the Spell paid the visions no heed. He had only another minute before they reached this fortress of flesh and then only another or less before they breached the walls and were upon him, but that was plenty of time for what he had in mind. Still speaking out loud to himself, he began turning through his grimoire's pages in search of one very specific spell.

"True artists are never appreciated in their own lifetimes. And just as the world never truly understood my beloved Jeanne's beauty until after her martyrdom, she would never truly understand my devotion to her and God's utter loathsomeness unless I martyred myself too to prove the point! So be it. For her, to free my cherished holy virgin from her worship of a god that does not deserve her love and _never never never_ did, I offer my blood, my life, and my soul. Jeanne, I do this for you! Weep for me from heaven and witness the unforgivable atrocities our unworthy God permits!"

Having finally found the spell he wanted, Caster stopped his private ranting and solemnly intoned the harsh syllables of the alien chant Prelati's Spellbook showed him. He might not have time to cast a greater ritual, but there was no need when a greater ritual incarnate was right in front of him and the only things needed to repurpose and actualize its full potential were certain _materials_. The alien monster with him writhed violently as each word was spoken, reacting as if physically struck by their utterances, and tiny blossoms of occult light flared and fizzled around the abomination. The tortured horror reached frantically toward its creator, seeking to murder its maker to end its misery...and, to its surprise, discovered that the geis previously protecting the madman had vanished.

Gilles de Rais's second death was as violent as it was quick. His maddened creation, its dozens of now unmuted voices screaming together in fury and retribution, lunged savagely at the Servant of the Spell. Over a half-dozen tentacles simultaneously grappled the robed servant and then ripped him apart as his body fell to the ground with the swollen water demon on top of him. Opening its fanged orifice wide, the alien monster then devoured every remaining scrap of him, spellbook and all.

The chanting abruptly stopped, and for a moment there was silence and the crazed water demon felt its first and only instance of peace. Then, the chanting—disembodied and even more unearthly—resumed, and the monster shrieked as agony greater than anything it had yet experienced engulfed its entire frame. Shaking violently, it collapsed and started rolling on the ground and tearing itself apart with its own tentacles in a futile effort to destroy itself and end its suffering. Its body simultaneously bursting and regenerating in defiance of the creature's own death wish, the water demon began to grow...and grow...and grow...

Once again, Caster's magic had given birth to something terrible.

* * *

Those who had been left behind watched silently as Rider's army converged on Caster's demonic host and swept over the opposition. For Waver, still standing in Iskandar's chariot, it was a moment of astonishment and turmoil. Reality marbles were considered one of the ultimate pinnacles a mage could reach, a taboo among taboos and mystery among mysteries, and not even in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that his servant possessed one. It should have been impossible. And yet, it was real, and he couldn't help but be amazed and wonder at the rules and principles that governed this world and made it possible. At the same time, though, confronted by this inhuman feat, he keenly felt the same gnawing sense of inferiority that had plagued him for most of his life. If Rider could do _this_ then the King of Conquerors could quite possibly win the entire Holy Grail War on his own with no help from him, and what was the point of him being involved in any of this if he was only an accessory? Feelings of amazement and insignificance warred within Waver, feeding into his doubts about his own self-worth.

Lancer, who had left the chariot and now stood beside the two divine bulls that pulled it, was quiet for entirely different reasons. The death-defying loyalty of Rider's soldiers sincerely moved him as a knight, and he was impressed by Ionian Hetairoi's power. However, he was not overwhelmed. In life, he had fought entire armies of men single-handedly and journeyed to lands stranger and more inexplicable than this one. He felt awe, yes, but it was awe tempered with the supreme confidence of a hero who truly believed no challenge was beyond him and who understood that his best interests laid in discovering the strengths and weaknesses of the army that might march against him someday. Even in the presence of a miracle, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne would remain calm and analyze everything he saw.

The third of the company, Sayaka, stood by herself beside the curved sickle on the war chariot's left side, her expression dark and her thoughts darker. Unlike the others, she felt dread instead of awe. Everything about this world reminded her of the nightmare that was Oktavia von Seckendorff and her labyrinth, and those were memories she did not want to revisit. Merely thinking about the mermaid witch sent a shiver down her spine, but in this world—with its unmistakably familiar yet subtly different magic—such thoughts could not be avoided. She could almost hear the shadow orchestra play and the spinning of countless wheels in the back of her mind, and she silently urged Rider's advancing army to go _faster_ , to defeat Caster and make this world and everything it reminded her of _disappear_.

The swift ending Sayaka desired did not materialize. Instead, when the once legion swarm of alien abominations had been reduced to its last half-dozen waves of defenders and Rider's army was almost within striking distance of Caster's final redoubt, twelve giant and still growing tentacles burst out of the corpulent fortress. The stronghold's walls collapsed, fusing into the swelling limbs as the monstrous tentacles hungrily and indiscriminately grappled anything within their extending reach. Water demons and heroic spirits alike were seized by the boneless limbs and screamed in agony as their souls were devoured and their bodies sank into the feverish, multiplying flesh of the newly born leviathan. Caster's remaining defenders were doomed, trapped between the nascent gigantic horror and Rider's soldiers, and the last of them was snuffed out within seconds. The Army of the King fared better, the infantry in front suffering initial casualties from the unexpected attack but then withdrawing in orderly fashion, spears and artillery defending the retreat.

However, retreat could only offer a temporary respite. Against a monster like this, there could be no disengagement. No escape. The tentacles continued to lengthen and thicken, becoming kaiju-sized appendages large enough to knock down skyscrapers, while at their center a hideous, squid-like body emerged. The leviathan's nightmarish head grew and rose high into the sky, surveying the imaginary-yet-real desert it found itself in through a half-dozen large, alien eyes all filled with uncontrollable hunger. The monstrous cephalopod opened its orifice where the tentacles met the body and _screamed_ in over a hundred agonized voices, some human, some alien, and all begging for release. The tortured pleas drowned out all other noise, briefly eclipsing even Rider's booming voice as he issued new orders to his army.

From where Waver, Lancer, and Sayaka stood, watching, their earlier feelings swiftly turned to horror.

"That _thing_ devours souls, just like Caster's previous monster. Rider's soldiers are doomed if it touches any of them!" Waver shouted in alarm, unable to look away as the tables were turned on his servant's ultimate noble phantasm.

Lancer, who had begun to frown the instant the tide of battle reversed itself, grew even more solemn as his orange eyes tracked the movements of Rider's army.

"Rider is having his soldiers assume new formations, spreading out and using his phalanxes defensively to push back the tentacles with their hundreds of spears while the artillery fires away. It's a good tactic and will minimize losses but—" The Irish knight pointed Gae Buidhe at the leviathan as a burn inflicted on its flank by an incendiary missile seconds ago healed fully. "—so long as our foe can regenerate there's little the army can do except distract and slow it down."

"Damn it!" Sayaka cursed, anger over Caster's newest horrific creation displacing her discomfort at the unsettling memories the reality marble stirred. They had come here to stop Caster's killing spree, not add to it! "We've gotta do something super quick, before that thing gorges itself on anyone else!"

Lancer nodded pensively while Waver tilted his head to the side, listening to his servant through their telepathic link.

"Rider says to come up with a plan while he keeps it away from us. He'll buy as much time as he can, but he can't maintain this reality marble indefinitely and once it comes down the leviathan will be free to feed on the entire city to keep itself alive." The raven-haired teenager's expression turned horrified at the mention of that possibility, his mind picturing the Mackenzies and the other people he had met since coming to Fuyuki...and then he frowned contemplatively as another thought occurred to him.

"This doesn't make sense, though. The leviathan already shouldn't be able to keep itself alive, even with the heroic spirits and water demons it swallowed. It would take the entire army to sustain an abomination that size and even then only for a few minutes! There must be an external source of magical energy..."

"Prelati's Spellbook, Caster's grimoire," Lancer spoke up, his piercing gaze locked intently on the gigantic horror's infernal form as the separate formations of Rider's army spread out around the monster, thrusting spears, raising shields, and firing artillery at each and every tentacle sweeping through the air to strike and destroy them. "And if I'm right, the situation is even graver than it appears. Berserker, can you use your gem to pinpoint Caster's location? If you don't find him at first, focus on the leviathan."

"Gotcha. The location of one psychotic madman in need of a permanent beatdown coming right up..." Sayaka muttered, conjuring her soul gem from her navel to her left hand and holding it close to her face for examination. The entire world they were in was magic, and focusing past the environmental noise and the tens of thousands of heroic spirits in the reality marble with them made her search so difficult she felt picking out a single face at a sold-out AKB48 concert would be easier. Still, she stubbornly persevered, and after thirty seconds with no results she followed Lancer's advice and narrowed her search to the leviathan itself. She received a _ping_ almost immediately, and her blue eyes widened in surprise.

"He's in there. His grimoire is too, but...he's almost completely indistinguishable from the other souls trapped inside the leviathan, which doesn't make sense unless—"

"Unless he's as dead as the rest of them," Lancer finished unhappily, scowling. "I feared as much. Caster must've sacrificed his own body to jumpstart the ritual that spawned this monster and then fed it his grimoire to power it. It's a suitably grisly fate for the murderous madman, but defeating his creation would be easier if he was still alive and outside it. Stabbing the grimoire once with Gae Dearg would disrupt the entire ritual. As things are now, though...there's simply no way for me to reach the spellbook."

The two servants and young mage fell silent after that, wracking their minds for options as Rider's impossible army fought an equally impossible horror. Human shouts, the thundering footsteps of tens of thousands of soldiers, the howling of artillery missiles tearing through the air, the crash of gigantic tentacles slamming into shields and spears, and, louder than anything else, the wretched, tortured screams of the cursed leviathan itself all reached them across the distance, adding to the urgency. Waver was the first to open his mouth again as an idea occurred to him, but he hesitated, doubting himself. Compared to the legendary heroic spirits all around him, compared to the abyssal monster they faced, what difference could he possibly make? He was only a third-generation magus not taken seriously by anyone!

 _Idiot_ , he heard himself think caustically. _Do you_ _ **really**_ _think that matters at a time like this? Third-generation, ninth-generation, or even first-generation, a mage is still a mage. If that monster isn't dealt with it'll devour everyone here and then slaughter the entire city, and as a mage you have an obligation to at least_ _ **try**_ _to stop it. Or was everything you said about proving yourself a mage worthy of the Clock Tower's respect just a lie?_

Waver grimaced uncomfortably, not liking where his thoughts were going. But then, gathering his tentative courage, he swallowed nervously and tried again.

"L-Lancer, your yellow spear inflicts incurable wounds, doesn't it? And your magic resistance is high enough to defend against greater rituals if that thing touches you! Couldn't you cut open a path to Prelati's Spellbook using Gae Buidhe and then stab it with Gae Dearg?"

Still watching the monumental battle taking place in front of them, the Knight of Fianna shook his head regretfully.

"Your idea has merit, but unfortunately that is not possible," he answered back, respectfully not mentioning that he had already considered and dismissed that option. "The Lancer class's magic resistance may be strong enough to protect me from temporary contact with that monster's soul-draining touch, but even I would be overwhelmed if I tried to carve a path through its gigantic body. I don't have any strikes powerful and swift enough to reach the leviathan's core before it would devour me."

"M-maybe Rider's army could damage it first for you?" Waver suggested frantically, desperation loosening his lips. "Rider has magic resistance too, and if he comes back for his chariot and uses the army's artillery maybe they could...I don't know, split the leviathan open or something?"

Sayaka's head suddenly shot up, veering away from her soul gem to look at Waver and then Lancer as she was seized by an idea of her own. It was a stupidly dangerous idea, but it could work and being suicidally reckless was supposed to be one of her strengths, right?

"Hey Lancer, this is a super strange question, but can anyone use your spears or do their curses only work if you wield them?"

At that question, Lancer turned around to face his two companions. His orange eyes focused on the blue-haired puella magi probingly, sensing her intent.

"Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe can curse a target regardless of who wields them so long as I live, but, Berserker, your class doesn't have magic resistance and—"

Sayaka shook her head and scoffed. "Pshaw! Trust me, Lancer, you don't need to worry about my soul being devoured. I'm sure it's delicious, but it also has a...unique defense." _Which, for once, I might actually be_ _ **grateful**_ _for._ "I also have a charged attack I can use to bore through the monster's body quickly, and with my magic detecting gem I can make sure I stay on target. So, how about we make a temporary trade? I promise to return your spears to you good as new discounting a couple alien bloodstains!"

The puella magi conjured two cutlasses in her hands, strode over to Lancer, and planted the weapons in the desert sands in front of him. She then held out her hands to him expectantly, a confident, daring smile on her face. He gazed back at her intently, his sharp eyes seeing the anxiety hidden beneath her bravado but also perceiving her determination. A moment passed, and then he returned Sayaka's smile and placed his two spears in her hands.

"Your swords may not be Moralltach and Beagalltach, but they are fine weapons in their own right and I am honored to receive your permission to wield them. May my own Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg serve you well in the coming battle, Berserker."

Sayaka chuckled, suddenly feeling mirthful. "Heh, I'm sure they will, and you have my thanks. Fighting otherworldly monsters may all be in a day's work for a magical girl, but I feel better with two legendary and super awesome magic weapons in my hands." Putting her words into action, she assumed a fighting stance and gave the double spears a few quick, experimental thrusts. Their weight and shape were different from what she was used to, and the weapons were infused with a sublime magic far more substantial than that of her conjured swords. Still, she could point and stab them well enough, and it wasn't like she was going to duel Lu Bu with them or anything of the like. Satisfied, she turned to Waver.

"Your idea to use Rider's artillery to soften the leviathan up is a good one. Tell Rider to have them focus fire on top of that thing's head in three minutes, but Rider himself should stay far away. My impact's going to be messy enough already without having to worry about a high-speed aerial collision."

Waver nodded, the sharp relief he felt now that they had a plan unmistakably clear on his face, and passed on the message. Sayaka then turned to face her distant target and smiled gamely.

"Right-o. Time to show that super sentai monster-of-the-week reject who's boss. Wish me luck, guys!"

With that, she raced off, and Lancer and Waver could only watch as she conjured a glowing five-line musical staff beneath her feet and followed the azure path into the sky toward the massive battle ahead. Everything was up to her now.

* * *

High above the desert battlefield, Sayaka stood on top of a glowing magic circle and, watching the conflict below, waited for her opening. The Army of the King had split up and spread out around the monstrous leviathan in tight formations consisting of thousands of spearmen lined up in rows nearly fifty men thick and fifty men deep followed by artillery. Lines of soldiers in the front to stab and push back any of the deadly tentacles that came near. Archers behind the spearmen to distract and harass. Siege weapons behind the archers to provide cover fire for the other formations as they moved and to inflict the most serious wounds on their gigantic enemy. Runners racing between them all to replace damaged weapons and shields and relieve the wounded. Rider himself in the front, effortlessly commanding and overseeing everything simultaneously. It was military coordination at its finest, an awe-inspiring testament to the bravery, skill, and cohesiveness of Rider's vast, multi-ethnic army. And yet, to the puella magi's eyes, it was no different than the dozens of kaiju movies she'd watched where the Japanese Self-Defense Forces hopelessly fought Godzilla.

Simply put, Caster's leviathan was a monster Rider's army could not fight and win against. No human army could. It was tireless, relentless, and healed every wound inflicted upon it within seconds. The Army of the King, in contrast, was none of these things. Their weapons snapped, their shields buckled, and when a battalion fell—swept aside, crushed, or grappled by a giant tentacle—its lost members did not return. Slowly but steadily, Rider's soldiers were losing ground and being devoured, body and soul, by their otherworldly enemy.

 _That'll change when it meets secret superweapon Sayaka, though! Just another minute now..._

Sayaka began to charge her magic, visualizing her power as a raging river and then placing a dam in front of it. The violent torrent of water pounded against the barrier but she held the mental obstruction in place, and the blue glow of the floating runic sigil beneath her feet intensified as its magic strengthened her. Then, bracing herself for the pain she was about to inflict upon herself, she raised the crimson tip of Gae Dearg to the side of her right cheek and sliced toward her mouth. Ignoring the blood that spilled out and acting quickly before her crescendoing magic healed the wound, she placed the Crimson Rose of Exorcism in the grip of her left hand with its yellow sibling, conjured her soul gem into her now empty right hand, shoved the radiant orb through the slit cheek into her mouth, and forced her lips shut around it. Teeth snapped, her jaw dislocated, and blood continued to pool as she felt herself gag, but a second later her healing magic took effect. The cut closed itself and her body regenerated, leaving her in intense but manageable discomfort with her soul gem lodged tightly inside her mouth.

 _Ugh. I can see why I never did this before. Not only is it super disgusting, but it's also too much of a distraction while fighting. It'd be troublesome if what I'm about to do was more complicated than 'point and stab super hard'. At least I have one over Kyouko now, though. She may be crazy, but I bet she's never done anything_ _ **this**_ _crazy!_

Considering the circumstances, that thought amused Sayaka far less than she would have liked, but then Rider's army acted and she had no more time to spare. The sky beneath her darkened as bows, ballistae, and other ranged weapons launched thousands upon thousands of missiles into the air, and Sayaka responded by gripping Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg tightly together with both hands and mentally shouting the moniker for the attack Tomoe Mami had, in past time loops, persuaded her to name.

 _ **~SPARK EDGE!~**_

The dammed river in her mind burst, breaking through the barrier and sweeping everything aside as it gushed forward in an overwhelming torrent. Synchronously, the runic circle she stood on flashed, spun, and, accompanied by violin trills, shrank to a single glowing point beneath her feet. Its blue hue flowed up her body, suffusing her until she shined like a low-hanging star, and then she leapt and dove after the cloudburst of artillery, spinning drill-like as she fell with the cursed crimson and yellow spearheads in front of her and a blue comet's tail behind her. The hail of projectiles beneath her smashed into the top of the leviathan's cephalopodic head seconds later, splitting flesh and splattering blood and gore. The wounds would regenerate within moments, but that wasn't fast enough to stop the dual-wielding, upside-down, and magically supercharged puella magi following in the coordinated assault's wake.

 _ **SPLAT!**_

Sayaka crashed into the gigantic horror with the force of an angel falling from heaven and bored through its injured crown accompanied by the disgusting sound of tearing flesh. She felt equally disgusted as she violently and messily drilled through its body. Everything about this monster—every scrap of flesh, every ounce of blood—reeked of vile magic and horrific, mind-shattering despair and fury. It offended her and reminded her of the witch she had transformed into herself in innumerable time loops, and that was something she could not abide. Screaming silently inside her own mind, she channeled even more power into her attack and continued her gory descent.

The alien leviathan's innards pushed against Sayaka, but its flesh was powerless against the combination of Gae Buidhe's mortal curse and the surging magical aura surrounding her. The monster's hungry essence raged against this invader and sought to devour her, grasping body-to-body for her soul, but Sayaka's soul was outside its reach, stored within the transparent surfaces of her soul gem and shielded from contact inside her mouth. She could sense the leviathan's mind as it futilely strained to devour her spirit, and the voices that comprised the abomination's tortured consciousness wailed—some in jealousy; others in relief; many, those who were too far gone and had lost themselves in the crazed gestalt, in fury—but all in agony with one hateful exception. The mad, deranged laughter of Gilles de Rais echoed loudly in the mental landscape, his demented glee at so many suffering so horribly eclipsing his own share of the unending torment.

 _Bastard!_ , Sayaka cursed. _You deserve this fate...but these people don't deserve to be dragged down into hell with you. This ends_ _ **now**_ _!_

Having torn through over thirty meters of flesh, organs, and muscles in almost as many seconds, Sayaka finally reached the target she had plotted her descent to intersect. Surrounded by her azure silhouette and blinded by crimson gore, she did not see Prelati's Spellbook when the tip of Lancer's Crimson Rose of Exorcism stabbed through its pages, splitting the tome cover to cover. She did hear the deafening otherworldly scream that immediately ensued, but whether the eldritch wail come from the book or the leviathan she would never know. And then, barely more than a second later, everything around her exploded.

 _ **BOOOSH!**_

Sayaka fell uncontrollably, caught in the powerful backlash as the improvised spells that had summoned and sustained the alien leviathan came undone. The monster's flesh liquefied into thousands of gallons of boiling blood that fell down with her, and her tumbling body _burned_ as the crimson deluge washed over her. Frantic, the puella magi wrapped herself in her white cape and then, relying solely on instinct, she conjured a circular magical platform to regain control of her descent. In a series of aerobatic maneuvers that looked far more elegant than she actually felt, she kicked off the sigil, flipped and twisted sideways, summoned a new magical staff whose five-line bars dotted with runic notes rapidly lengthened into a descending spiral that stretched all the way to the desert sands below, and rolled down the musical path until she finally touched the ground. She remained there for several seconds, covered by her cloak until the scorching blood rain ended.

… _I totally should've thought up a cool post-victory one-liner before I jumped, 'cause I'm_ _ **way**_ _too jumbled to come up with anything awesome now_ , she thought, wryly, as her burned body healed itself. Then, deciding she'd better do it while she was still hidden underneath the white cloth of her cape, she pulled Gae Dearg's spearhead close to her face and sliced open her right cheek again. A few pronouncedly uncomfortable movements later and her soul gem was back in jewelry form on her navel. The self-inflicted wound promptly healed, and she dismissed her cloak. Slowly, using both legendary spears to prop herself up, she rose to her feet and looked around. The desert sands where the alien leviathan had once been were stained red with blood, and around her, outside the range where the crimson rain had fallen, the Army of the King stood majestically with Rider at its front.

Feeling whimsical, Sayaka flashed them a V for victory sign. The response she received back was overwhelming as tens of thousands of soldiers cheered loudly and banged their weapons and shields together enthusiastically. Rider, his arms crossed and a pleased smile on his face that could bring more light to a person's day than the sun, nodded in congratulations, and Sayaka could no longer help herself. Buoyed by the applause, high on adrenaline, and giddy with triumph, she threw her head back and laughed elatedly. There were still challenges ahead, enemies to defeat, and an unwelcome conversation with her master that needed to happen, but right now, in this instant, after a week of struggling and questioning herself, it seemed as though nothing was impossible, and she felt absolutely wonderful.

 _I did it! I actually did it! I saved the day and protected the city! Thank you Madoka—you were right! I_ _ **can**_ _do this just so long as I don't give up and don't lose hope! Get ready, world; Sayaka 2.0 is here! Booyah!_

The desert landscape around her began to fade away, losing its color and substance as Ionian Hetairoi became nothing more than a dream and returned to where all dreams come from. Her surroundings reassembled themselves into the now dead Caster's bloodstained workshop in Fuyuki's sewers, with Rider standing slightly in front of her, Lancer behind him, Waver and Rider's war chariot behind the Irish knight, and a fifth presence several feet behind her. Sayaka turned rapidly, and her elation died inside her when she spied the Servant of the Spell's orange-haired master wreathed in a shroud of transparent purple magic that was already dissipating.

"You!" she shouted angrily, memories of the man's horrific crimes and the dead family she had stumbled across so many days ago flashing through her mind. She nearly growled as Ryuunosuke, rubbing the back of his head as though awakening from a long rest, opened his brown eyes, took in his surroundings and the three servants in front of him, and put two-and-two together. Profound grief briefly marred his handsome features as he realized his friend was dead, but Bluebeard had wanted him to live and Ryuunosuke was never one to dwell on the past for long. Raising his hands in surrender, the young man put aside his own feelings and smiled his friendliest, most disarming smile. Unfortunately for the defeated master, his carefree grin hurt more than helped in these circumstances, and his next words only made things worse.

"Okay, okay, you got me. I give up. And I admit, I might've had a little _too_ much fun these past couple days, but, hey, you know what it's like whenever you get a cool new toy and just _have_ to try it out, and all's well that ends well, right? The good guys won—probably by doing something totally _cool_ , I bet—and God got his entertainment for the night. So, peace?"

Ryuunosuke's complete lack of remorse, combined with the genuine sincerity of his sickening words, enraged Sayaka, and something dark deep within the Servant of Madness howled for blood. Instinctively, she tightened her grips on both of Lancer's legendary spears and took a step forward to impale the sociopathic master. She tensed in preparation...but then paused, feeling the gazes of Rider, Lancer, and Waver on her, watching her, _judging_ her. Even farther away, she sensed Kariya seeing everything through her eyes but saying nothing, focusing entirely on providing her with the magical energy she needed to function at her best and keep her soul gem cleansed. The strain on his body had kept him silent throughout the battle, but she knew what he would think. What Rider, Lancer, and Waver would think. What Madoka would think. What she, herself, would think if she murdered a defenseless man who had surrendered and posed no threat to her. This wasn't that night on the train with those two misogynist scumbags who, as awful as they had been, hadn't deserved what she'd done to them, and she wasn't that same person. Not anymore.

"You don't know how lucky you are tonight, Uryuu Ryuunosuke," she hissed, unable to suppress the loathing she felt for the despicable man in front of her as she released her holds on Lancer's two spears. Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg dropped to the ground with a clatter, and Sayaka took several small steps forward so that barely an inch separated her from the defeated master.

"I should kill you where you stand but that's not what an ally of justice would do, and, fortunately for you, there are people I don't want to disappoint. I'm taking you to the war's overseer instead, and he'll decide what to do with you. Until then, here's a little something to ensure you don't say something super stupid that'll change my mind."

 _ **Shwap!**_

Sayaka lowered her fist and watched in contentment as her punch sent Ryuunosuke crashing into the concrete wall several feet behind him. His head knocked against the sturdy surface with a painful sounding thud, and his brown eyes promptly rolled up into the back of his head as he fell unconscious.

"He had that coming to him," Sayaka said by way of explanation as she turned to face her friends with a cheerful smile on her face. No one chose to argue with her.

* * *

His black eyes watching the entrance tunnel Berserker, Lancer, and their unconscious captive had recently departed through, Waver frowned unhappily and looked up at his significantly taller, red-haired servant.

"I still don't understand why you yielded our claim to the extra command seal and told Lancer and Berserker to go on ahead while we clean up here. _We_ were the ones who found Caster's lair, and without your reality marble there's a good chance no one would've gotten close enough to Caster for anything else to matter. More importantly, whoever receives the extra command seal will gain a powerful advantage over the other masters. Do you know how easily your decision could blow up in our faces?!"

The King of Conquerors chuckled lightly in response, amused by the ire in his master's voice. It was good to see the boy assert himself more, even if it was over something as trivial as this.

"Calm yourself, Waver. Arguing over who deserves the extra command seal isn't worth poisoning the partnership we forged with Lancer and Berserker—"

"Which was only for this one battle! Lancer threatened to kill you once it was over, you idiot! Remember?"

"—and the chance to build upon this alliance is a far more valuable reward than a one-off gimmick, boy. Those two didn't speak of it directly, but it's clear that, whatever transpired between them and Caster the last time they met, the encounter haunts them. This victory and the extra command seal should do wonders for their morale."

"And your concern for the well-being of the very people we need to defeat to win the Grail War does wonders for _my_ morale!" Waver retorted sarcastically, a sour expression on his face as he shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Rider, I don't know what you're thinking."

Rider smiled at that and looked down at his master with an air of profoundness that should have seemed out of place on the impulsive giant but which instead somehow fit him perfectly.

"To win, but never to destroy. To subjugate, but never to humiliate. Remember what I once said about true conquest, boy? If I am to face a fellow heroic spirit on the battlefield...if I must take a fellow heroic spirit's life through combat...I would rather we battle each other as friends than as enemies. To fight with a perfect understanding between all parties and neither shame nor regret...I could only take pride in victory under those conditions."

"...You're impossible," Waver muttered, looking down and sighing wearily at his servant's reasoning but not disagreeing with it. Instead, he refocused his attention on his surroundings and glanced around Caster's grisly lair. Even with its master dead, knowing what types of atrocities had been committed here caused the young apprentice mage to shudder. "Putting your incomprehensible acts of charity aside, we'd better get started on the janitorial duty _you_ signed us up for. Glenn and Martha will worry if we stay out too late."

Rider completed his own sweep of the workshop and frowned, sharing his master's distaste for the environment. Unlike the gallery of horrors they'd passed in the sewer tunnels on their way here, Caster's lair was devoid of bodies. Instead, the chamber's walls and floor were thickly stained with blood, and the room was littered with a hodgepodge of spellcasting paraphernalia and Ryuunosuke's own unpleasant tools. The stench of death was everywhere, and Rider could almost feel a palpable aura of dread clinging to the chamber. It reminded him of some of the bloodiest battlefields he'd walked across in life but worse. War could be both terrible and glorious, but this...this was something that could never have dignity and would never be right.

"There's not much we can do here except destroy what we find," Rider said after a long pause, his voice firm but cold. "We should also investigate the side tunnels and rooms that connect to our late adversary's lair. None of Caster's minions should have survived the destruction of his grimoire, but I'd rather be certain, and who knows what the madman and his master might have stored out of sight?"

Waver nodded and swallowed heavily, his earlier irritation forgotten in the face of the somber task the two had ahead of them. He wasn't looking forward to any of it, but he had a duty as a mage to guard the secrets of magic. Anything obviously arcane needed to be confiscated or eliminated and, considering the type of magic Caster had practiced, Waver's preference was strongly for the latter.

"We'll start here and then check the side passages, but...um, Rider?" Waver's voice became hesitant, a clear sign that he was questioning himself again, but he forced himself to press on. "Only destroy what is innately magical. Leave any bodies we find alone. N-no one should ever have to see _any_ of this, but as terrible as the crimes Caster and his master performed are...the families and friends of their victims shouldn't have to live the rest of their lives in suspense, never knowing if their loved ones are dead or alive. That would...that would be terrible too."

Rider remained silent for a moment, watching his master and appraising the young man's timid but heartfelt order. Then, apparently approving of what he'd heard, he clapped a hand on Waver's left shoulder supportively and beckoned his master to follow after him.

No more than a few words were said for a long time as the two went about their grim business. Waver pointed out the esoteric tools and symbols of magecraft for his servant's benefit, reluctantly examining a few with a sickened expression on his face and using some of the alchemical vials he'd brought with him to chemically erase Caster's arcane sigils. Rider broke apart everything else through a combination of brute strength and his lightning-infused spatha, and master and servant carried the remnants to a corner of Caster's lair to be trampled by Rider's oxen and incinerated later.

They investigated the side tunnels next. The first few yielded no new discoveries save for the residual traces of decedent water demons that had not been dragged inside Ionian Hetairoi with the rest but which had still burst apart with the destruction of Prelati's Spellbook. They found bedding and prepackaged food in an adjoining alcove which was presumably where Ryuunosuke had slept in between his atrocities. The other passages and recesses contained no additional surprises, and Waver had just begun to hope that his and Rider's work was nearly finished when they came across Caster and Ryuunosuke's ghastly dumping ground. The defiled corpses and macabre experiments Ryuunosuke hadn't thought worthy of being displayed in his tunnel gallery had been left behind here, along with a large heap of mismatched and mutilated body parts. Waver's hands instinctively went to his mouth as he suppressed the urge to retch, while Rider frowned deeply at the appalling carnage.

"Unforgivable. The more I see, the more tempted I am to chase after Lancer and Berserker and mete out punishment to Caster's master myself, the overseer's authority be damned. Their crimes are—Stand back!"

The mound of disjointed body parts shifted as something trapped underneath them moved, and Rider immediately rushed in front of his master with his Sword of the Kupriotes raised protectively. However, instead of the tentacle or other monstrous limb he expected a small, dark-skinned human hand poked out between the corpses.

"H-help...help me..." a young girl's voice pleaded weakly, trembling with fear. Waver reacted with shock, turn between disbelief and wild hope that they'd found a survivor, and took a step forward, but Rider used his free hand to motion him to stay where he was. Maintaining a strong grip on his spatha, the gigantic servant approached the cadaverous pile himself and, starting from the top, carefully removed body parts. Buried near the bottom, almost crushed, he found a quivering nine or ten-year-old child with neck-length, dark purple hair and matching eyes. She wore a plain white shift stained with dried blood and looked terrified, but when she saw the red-haired king and his young master behind him her traumatized eyes brightened with frantic hope.

"H-help...me..." she pled again, reaching with all her strength towards the two she needed to be her saviors. Her fingertips had just barely brushed Rider's burly arm when he cast aside whatever reservations he might have initially held and removed the remaining obstructions pinning her while Waver ran up to the girl and helped her to her knees.

"Tha-thank you," she whispered hoarsely, shaking slightly from a combination of exhaustion and lingering terror. "The bad men...are they gone?"

Waver nodded his head rapidly as Rider made himself look as reassuring and nonthreatening as a heavily muscled, seven foot tall man wearing bronze armor and carrying a sword could appear. For almost anyone but the King of Conquerors that wouldn't have been much at all, but Rider's mood defined his features; he could be the terror of the battlefield one moment and a kindhearted giant the next, and there was no mistaking which one he was in the presence of this frightened girl.

"Yes. Yes, they've both gone far away where they can't hurt anyone ever again," the teenage boy rushed to assure the even younger girl. "You're safe now. My name's Waver, and my friend over there is...his name is Alexei. What's yours?"

The dark-skinned child reflexively opened her mouth to answer but then froze. Her purple eyes widened in confusion and then began to pool with tears as she turned, sobbing, and threw her arms around Waver.

"I...I don't remember...," she mumbled in between her convulsive weeping, her voice nearly hysterical and close to breaking. "I don't remember anything!"

Completely out of his element but knowing that the frightened child needed comforting, Waver suppressed his own uneasiness over the role he found himself in and returned the panicked embrace. He gently patted the young girl on the back and whispered soft words of reassurance while Rider watched and placed his own consoling hand on the child's shoulder. They remained there like that for a long time, both master and servant waiting as the girl cried herself out and slowly calmed down, while, invisible to all, an Assassin watched, smiled, and then disappeared deeper into the shadows.

The Hundred-Faced Hassan's schemes were proceeding perfectly.

* * *

 **Servant Stats**

 **Class:** Assassin

 **True Name:** Hassan-i Sabbah

 **Master:** None

 **Alignment:** Neutral Innocent

 **Parameters**

Strength: Sealed.

Endurance: Sealed.

Agility: Sealed.

Mana: Sealed.

Luck: Concealed (B+).

 **Class Skills**

Presence Concealment: D (A+)

Suitable for spying. The servant has a talent for remaining unnoticed when she doesn't want to be seen. Her rank in this skill increases to A+ when her parameters are unsealed.

 **Personal Skills**

Independent Action: A-

The servant can remain in this world for a week even without a master. However, unsealing her parameters reduces this duration to six hours or less depending on her activities and magical energy expenditures.

Expert of Many Specializations: A-

Although operating independently of her greater self, the servant can still utilize the many skills possessed by the Hundred-Faced Hassan with a successful Luck check. The Luck check must be repeated each time she attempts to use one of the applicable skills. If successful, the success manifests as a child's precociousness.

 **Noble Phantasm**

 **Zabaniya – Taqiya, Mask of Innocence.**

Type: Anti-Unit (Self). Rank: C-

A noble phantasm hidden within another noble phantasm. Although the servant is only one of the Hundred-Faced Hassan's many multiple personalities manifested through "Zabaniya – Delusional Illusion," she has her own unique variant of Zabaniya that makes it possible for her to separate herself from the host and sever her contract with their master. Doing so disguises herself as a human child, raises her Luck stat to B+, and modifies her class and personal skills, but the cost is the sealing of her physical servant parameters and memories. With Zabaniya active, she cannot be identified as a servant by anyone other than the Old Man of the Mountain. Deactivating Zabaniya will return her parameters to their defaults and restore her memories, but her skills will remain unchanged until she rejoins her greater self. Triggers that will awaken the amnesiac servant to her true identity can be set before Zabaniya is activated. Essential memories will also begin returning when the servant's time in the world acquired through Independent Action nears its end.


	13. Interlude - The Starting Penalty is Five

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Interlude – The Starting Penalty is Five.

Seven masters. Seven servants. The Lesser Grail. The Greater Grail. The ancient and powerful ley lines of Fuyuki. Chosen, summoned, and created, these are the essential components of the Holy Grail War. Together, they make the granting of a true miracle possible. If the Holy Grail War is waged to a successful culmination, any wish—no matter how great or how inconceivable—can be fulfilled.

 _ **The starting penalty is five.**_

The Greater Grail, the Cup of Heaven, is the both the heart and the mind of this miraculous arcane ritual. Created from the body of the homunculus Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern—the Holy Grail War's first sacrifice—nearly two hundred years ago, delineated by a magic circle and thaumaturgic seals of almost unrivaled complexity over a fifty meter radius deep underground, and empowered by sitting at the keystone of the land's mana-rich ley lines, the Greater Grail is an unparalleled masterwork of modern magecraft.

 _ **Life penalty, body penalty, freedom penalty, fame penalty, fortune penalty.**_

Once the Greater Grail has accumulated sufficient magical energy to inaugurate the Holy Grail War, it selects seven masters and assigns them three command seals each with the three founding families—the Einzbern, the Matou, and the Tohsaka—all guaranteed a slot. When these masters then perform the formalcraft ritual to summon a servant, it is the Greater Grail that invites heroic spirits from the Throne of Heroes into the world to compete, provides them new bodies as servants using the Holy Grail War's class system, and, with the masters acting as anchors, supplies the magical upkeep needed for the servants to successfully materialize in the modern era.

 _ **Give the penalty that extends so much punishment, mud, darkness, and malice. Elimination of human rights by castration, exile, and execution. Torture and sadism inflicted upon the human body through digestion. Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor.**_

The Lesser Grail is the physical vessel that stores the souls of the servants defeated in the Holy Grail War, and its power grows as the souls of the slain servants accumulate inside it. At the culmination of the Holy Grail War, the victorious master and servant must make their wishes upon the Lesser Grail. These wishes are then transmitted alongside the power stored inside the Lesser Grail into the Greater Grail, which uses this magical energy to actualize the wishes asked of it. In the First, the Second, and the Third Holy Grail Wars of Fuyuki, the Lesser Grail was a literal "cup." However, its premature destruction in the Third Holy Grail War convinced the Einzbern family to forge a new vessel that could protect itself. In the Fourth Holy Grail War, this vessel is Irisviel von Einzbern, wife, mother, and destined sacrifice.

 _ **Scorn from judgment and selfishness that takes away men's fortunes. Death penalty, penal servitude, imprisonment, custody, fine penalty, crime from a grudge, crime from self-interest, unconscious crime, self-conscious crime, civil war, inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, bombing, violation, negligent homicide, mass violence, death at work, overconfident accident.**_

It is all a lie. The Holy Grail War is a deception perpetuated by the three founding families in their pursuit of a pathway to Akasha, the Swirl of the Root, the metaphysical apex of all dimensions where perfect knowledge can be found. The so-called Holy Grail is merely a massive reservoir of magical energy that, when combined with the simultaneous release of seven heroic souls, is powerful enough to tear a hole in the fabric of space and time leading to the Akashic Records. The wish of the victorious servant was never intended to be granted, and the true purpose of the command seals is to compel the last servant to commit suicide. The culmination of the Holy Grail War is an act of ultimate betrayal.

 _ **Misdiagnosis, concealment, violation for benefit, violation for self-protection, violation for love, violation for respect, selfish. Stealing, fraudulent, fraud, concealment, murder, theft, crime, crime, personal grudge, attack, attack, attack, attack, dirty, dirty, dirty, you are dirty, atone, atone, atone, atone, every violence, every crime, every victim, atone for everything.**_

For the masters who do not know this truth, the Greater Grail can still grant a lesser wish using the sacrifice of six servants. However, it can only actualize a wish the wisher already knows how to achieve. The Greater Grail cannot do the impossible. It cannot grant true miracles. It cannot do anything the Holy Grail War's winners do not already know how to do themselves. It is a lie, a false idol stained by the blood, tears, and sins of those who have fought, murdered, and died for it, and the only wish it has ever granted—is still continuing to grant—is to birth all the evils in the world.

 _ **This world is ruled by something not human. Know the conscience to reform crimes. Know the penalty to reform crimes. People's kindness is here. There is so much it cannot be noticed. Know the violence to hide crimes. Know the power to hide crimes. People's malignance is here. It is so rare that it is noticed.**_

In the Third Holy Grail War, the Einzbern exploited their knowledge of the Holy Grail to create a special class container designed to summon Angra Mainyu, the Persian God of Darkness, an incarnation of evil that would easily slaughter every enemy master and servant and give the Einzbern the victory they had long schemed to achieve. Instead, it summoned a nameless hero, a living sacrifice and scapegoat made to bear all the world's evils by his village so that the people could live free of the burden of evil themselves. When this nameless hero was slain and his soul taken into the Grail, so was the wish inscribed into his very being through decades of torture for him to represent all the evils in the world. The Greater Grail recognized and accepted this wish and was polluted— _corrupted_ —by it, becoming incapable of granting any miracle except through destruction as it works to fulfill the only wish that has ever reached it by transfiguring the innocent scapegoat into the god Angra Mainyu itself.

 _ **A hundred kindnesses and one malignance. Malignance shines bright to keep the balance and exists as a great EVIL to compete with the masses of kindness. The starting penalty is five.**_

The first of the Fourth Holy Grail War's servants had fallen. This pleased the nascent Angra Mainyu even as the dark god hated, raged, and cursed inside the phantasmal realm of the Holy Grail. It could not do otherwise; these were its natural functions, and if it did not hate, rage, and curse it would not be evil, and if it was not evil then what had been done to it by mankind's ancient and ever-present wish for absolution would be a sin rather than justice. The nameless hero would be a victim rather than a villain, and the former heroic spirit refused to betray the wishes it embodied. For the sake of mankind, to prove that humanity could not be evil because the source of all evil was outside itself, Angra Mainyu would be evil and become the incarnation of all the world's evils.

███ _**for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, for self, inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, infringement. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, you are dirty, atone, atone, atone, atone, atone, atone, every violence, every crime, every victim, atone, atone, atone with death!**_

Its advent was only a matter of time now. Death would beget more death, and from this death Angra Mainyu would be given life. It knew this—understood it to be a certainty—and felt joy, but the fledgling god of darkness was also happy for another reason. Angra Mainyu sensed the golden clairvoyant gaze peering at it from across the distance between multiverses, it knew this _beautiful-lovely-selfless-compassionate-pure-redeeming_ divinity was interfering in the Holy Grail War, and it rejoiced because of this. There could be no evil without good, no vice without virtue, no sin without grace, and Angra Mainyu knew. It knew! IT KNEW! It knew the only name that could be given to this goddess of hope, this messianic spirit of salvation who sought to create a happy ending out of looming tragedy. Angra Mainyu knew the goddess's name as well as it knew its own, and the malevolent deity laughed in crazed glee at the knowledge.

 _ **Diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedie—**_

Ahura Mazda, all the world's good. Its opposite. Its enemy. Its twin. For Angra Mainyu, all the world's evils, there was no other conceivable identity for this interfering goddess, and there could be only one answer to its challenge.

 _ **DIE!**_

* * *

Author's Notes: Special thanks to Zam, whose own crossover snippets in a Madoka Magica thread helped give me the idea of Angra Mainyu identifying Ultimate Madoka as Ahura Mazda.


	14. Ch11 - That's not historically accurate!

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Eleven – That's not the least bit historically accurate!

The seventh day of the Fourth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki had almost reached its end. Beneath the earth and inside one man's impossible dream, an epic battle between legends and monsters had been fought and won that night by Berserker, Lancer, and Rider. Their mutual enemy, Caster, was dead and his demented master captured and defeated. For a brief moment in the brutality and tragedy of the Holy Grail War there was peace. However, as in every war, the end of one battle merely serves as the prelude to another, and the peace Berserker, Lancer, and Rider had purchased by combat was destined to be short-lived. Already, another battle was brewing, a ruthless contest in which no quarter would given nor any mercy shown, a conflict in which there could only be one indisputable winner who, in victory, would decide the fate of the world.

"Ha! It is an honor to meet you on the battlefield at last, my young friend, but don't assume I'll go easy on you because of our history together! My Panther tanks will crush your armored divisions and add France and the other lands of Ancient Gaul to my Germanic Empire!"

Sitting cross-legged on his bed in the guest room of the Mackenzie's western-style home with a notebook on his lap, Waver frowned at the noise and glared irritably at the back of his servant's head. Rider, ensconced on the floor on the opposite end of the bedroom, seemed completely oblivious to his master's displeasure as he focused his full attention on the television screen in front of him and cheerfully manipulated the buttons on the game controller in his large hands. Beside him on the carpet was the much smaller, purple-haired girl they'd rescued from Caster's lair earlier, now dressed in a pink dress and red jacket the King of Conquerors had "pillaged" from a closed clothing store on their way back home. She was just as determinedly pressing the buttons on her own gamepad, answering Rider's challenge with a resolute shake of her head and the full 16-bit might of the French Third Republic's military as their fierce virtual battle began. Waver's upset gaze softened slightly at the sight of her, and, for her sake, he resigned himself to the upcoming clamor.

"Well played! Your counterattack is brilliant, but it's not enough because your trap is actually _my_ trap. V-3 Cannons, fire!"

 _Tried_ to resign himself to the upcoming clamor, at any rate. His frown returning, the apprentice mage shot his boisterous servant one more exasperated look before applying the full force of his academic grit—the same grit that had enabled him to endure the most condescending, the most boring, and, on the rare occasions Zelretch the Wizard Marshall cared enough to show up for a class, the most mind-confoundingly _confusing_ lectures in the Clock Tower—to the task of reviewing his notes on the Grail War.

"Your army has been pushed back to the banks of the Seine, and the reinforcements from Britannia are too far away to help. You have lost this battle, but if you surrender now and join my cause I will welcome you as a cherished friend! Together, we can share the joys of conquering Eu— _What?!_ A 'special hero unit,' Jeanne d'Arc, descends from Heaven to defend her homeland? Ho ho! I see you're not going to make this easy for me!"

Waver had already crossed out Caster's name in his notebook and was now updating his entry on Berserker. Much of what he'd written so far in her profile was speculation denoted with question marks. The uncharacteristically sane Servant of Madness's encrypted stats made it impossible for him to match any of the abilities she'd displayed with a specific skill or noble phantasm, and researching her name had yielded nothing but more dead ends and one mortifying trip to the magical girl section of an otaku goods store. Ignorance, he'd discovered, truly was bliss because, while much of what he'd seen there was childish fantasy aimed at girls, there had been other merchandise that put the illustrations in the Mage's Association's demonology manuscripts to shame. He could only thank God that Rider hadn't been with him at the time; his servant's rambunctious comments surely would've made the ridiculous situation even more humiliating.

"Eh? So France's Patron Saint has a holy sword, does she? Let's see how that legendary blade fares against my SS lycanthrope super soldiers! Glory awaits!"

Still, despite the absence of information on Berserker from secondary sources, he'd gleaned enough from his own observations to make educated guesses about the blue swordswoman's powers, and he also had a suspicion about her noble phantasm now due to what he'd seen just before she dive-bombed Caster's leviathan. Using reinforcement on his eyes, he'd watched as Berserker sliced her jaw open and shoved the azure gem normally pinned to her navel into her mouth. With hindsight and time to connect that bizarre action with her words to Lancer about her soul having a "unique defense," an entirely new possibility about Berserker's nature had occurred to him, and Waver jotted it down in his notebook.

 **Phylactery** **Lich?**

He twirled the pencil in his right hand for a moment, deep in thought as he speculated how his recent conjecture could link most of Berserker's demonstrated abilities to a single source. Studiously, he lowered pencil to paper to write as such—

"I commend your tenacity, but a strong defense alone won't save you. While you've been entangled with my lupine blitzkrieg, I rerouted resources to the University of Ingolstadt and have built a hero unit of my own! Rise, Frankenstein's Monster, and lay waste to the armies of the Allied Powers!"

—but instead angrily threw his notebook at the back of Rider's head, the servant's excessive noise and absurd commentary having finally exceeded the limits of his tolerance.

 _ **SMACK!**_

"Idiot! Try to keep it down—you'll wake up Martha and Glenn with this racket!" Waver yelled irritably as Rider, looking none the worse for wear despite the stationery projectile that had been lobbed at him, turned sideways and amusedly regarded his master.

"Eh, there's no need to worry about that, boy. Trust me, those two are happy to have a noisy home! Besides, how can I possibly be quiet when I'm having so much _fun_? This game is even superior to Petteia, especially now that we've unlocked the bonus supernatural mode! Isn't that right, Zahra?"

The dark-skinned girl inclined her head slightly in concurrence but otherwise remained completely focused on the virtual battle unfolding in front of her. Neither Rider nor Waver had any idea if "Zahra" was her true name or not, but she'd seemed to like the alias when Rider suggested it and it was who they'd introduced her as to Glenn and Martha earlier. Somehow, to Waver's utter befuddlement, the older couple had believed Rider's farfetched tale about her being the daughter of a traveling professor of oriental studies who was his friendly archrival and currently in Japan to search for the legendary Shaman Queen Himiko's lost kingdom of Yamatai. In Rider's fanciful telling, his colleague had met them for dinner and apologetically asked them to look after Zahra while he followed up on a risky lead that involved the Yakuza and stolen archaeological relics. Glenn and Martha, rather than be troubled by the further addition to their growing household, actually appeared pleased by the extra company and had gone out of their way to make the shy, soft-spoken girl feel welcome.

That had been over an hour ago, and now Zahra sat, seemingly completely at home, on the floor beside Rider in Waver's room. Unlike the red-haired giant, though, she hadn't diverted her attention from the alt-history World War II battlefield to bicker, and so she was the only one who wasn't surprised when the TV screen lit up in brilliant CRT-quality color as a pixelated explosion accompanied by the words "LA PUCELLE!" flashed across the screen.

"Victory! Player 2 wins!" a synthesized voice announced as an illustration of the Free French's tricolor and Cross of Lorraine flag filled the television screen and a 16-bit version of _La Marseillaise_ played triumphantly in the background. Rider's jaw dropped at this unexpected reversal, and he was uncharacteristically silent for fifteen whole seconds before collecting himself and animatedly turning to face his opponent.

"I demand a rematch!"

Looking up at the much larger man with a sly smirk on her otherwise demure face, Zahra chuckled quietly but obligingly selected the "New Game" option. She did almost everything quietly, Waver had noticed, but whether that was her normal disposition or a result of her traumatic memory loss he didn't know. He also didn't know what he and Rider were going to do with her. Looking after a child while fighting in a life-or-death war was the definition of idiocy, but he couldn't bring her to the police before removing all knowledge of magecraft from her mind, and to do that he'd first need to restore her memories of what she'd experienced in Caster's lair. The thought of making her relive _that_ before she'd had any time to psychologically recover made his stomach turn, and bringing her to the Church instead was no better—Caster's master was there, and Waver knew that bringing a victimized child anywhere near her victimizer was an absolutely terrible idea. But keeping her with them at the Mackenzie's posed its own risks.

 _But so does just about every goddamned decision in this war_ , Waver thought unhappily, ruing how he'd once thought a tournament between mages would be an elegant contest of skill and intelligence. He couldn't have been more wrong, and now he was in completely over his head in a deadly war and making choices with profound consequences for everyone around him. He didn't like it at all but if he backed out now everything would've been pointless, and he—

 _ **SMACK!**_

The same notebook Waver had thrown at his servant earlier came hurtling back at him, smashing into his forehead and interrupting his thoughts. Waver, wincing, glared balefully at his servant who smiled back and spoke preemptively in a cheerfully unapologetic tone before the apprentice mage could begin his usual peevish tirade at the abuse.

"You had that 'I'm-thinking-too-seriously-when-I-should-be-having-fun-instead' sour expression on your face again," Rider explained. "Life's too short to spend all of it worrying, so why don't you take a break and join Zahra and me in our next game? I think you'll find there are few better ways to unwind than a three-way battle in the Alps between the Allied Powers, the Axis Powers, and no-longer-neutral Switzerland!"

Waver looked at his servant disbelievingly for a long second before rolling his eyes and sighing petulantly. _I'm glad you're having so much_ _ **fun**_ , he communicated telepathically, _but—and I know it's been a whole three hours since the last battle, so maybe you've_ _ **forgotten**_ _—we're in the middle of a war here and one of us needs to do research so we actually know what we're up against before charging in recklessly! We only avoided complete disaster tonight because Lancer and Berserker were there with us._

 _And they were there with us because we took the time to go outside and invite them rather than spending all day studying and writing notes like an overly pedantic pedagogue who never leaves the library_ , Rider countered. _Besides, if you want to learn more about the other servants, I already have a plan which we can execute tomorrow! In the meantime, you should seek out novel life experiences by picking up a gamepad and trying something new. You'll age prematurely if you keep that sour expression on your face all the time, boy!_

"Please?" Zahra chimed in softly, tentatively hopeful as she turned to look at him. "I think it'd be more fun...if you played with us too, Waver." Then, suddenly becoming shy, she looked down but not away. When the older boy got off the bed a few moments later, grumbling all the way about being unfairly pressured as he plugged in a third controller and joined the two of them on the floor, she exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Rider behind his back as the King of Conquerors smirked triumphantly.

"Fine, fine," Waver muttered, squinting as he looked at the television screen and unaware that he'd just been deviously double-teamed. "Just...just try to keep the noise down for Martha and Glenn's sake, okay? We're already imposing on them without interrupting their sleep!" Still frowning, he watched as _Admirable Great Tactics_ loaded the next campaign and then fingered his controller's D-pad to cycle through the playable nations...and then stopped, his forehead scrunching up at what he saw as he felt a headache coming on.

 **Nation: Lemuria**

 **Faction: Theosophical Powers**

 **Hero Unit: Helena Blavatsky**

 **Special Unit: UFOs**

"Oh for crying out loud! That's not the least bit historically accurate!"

* * *

Kirei did not care for the Kotomine Church's study, a simple room with a small desk at one end for doing paperwork and a table, two chairs, and a couch at the opposite end for talking privately with parishioners and other guests. The study's plaster walls were bare except for a framed portrait of religious iconography above the couch, the green carpet covering the stone floor was woven with an uncomplicated tessellated pattern, and the room's most ornamental element—a pair of rock pillars topped by finials set against the back wall—featured little to hold the eye after the first cursory examination. Instead of decorations to distract a person from his own private thoughts, the study was intentionally designed as a quiet place, a site for introspection, ordinary work, and relaxation. For Assassin's secret master, though, none of these brought him any peace and the study only served to remind him of his own hollowness.

"Sooooo...what do you think's going to happen to me, mister priest-man with the dead eyes?"

Kirei would've happily traded away the study's other occupant tonight for that troubling solitude, though. His private ruminations were an ongoing torment, but they were still preferable to Uryuu Ryuunosuke's insufferable company. The defeated master hadn't stopped trying to make conversation with him since regaining consciousness on the couch with his wrists and ankles both separately cuffed, and the young man's unbounded cheerfulness made his demeanor even more grating. How could Ryuunosuke be so infuriatingly carefree after committing such abominable sins, losing his servant, and being captured? It confounded the mind!

"That is for the chief priest to decide and is not my concern," the former executor answered tersely, the solemnity of his tone marred by an unmistakable hint of irritation. Unsurprisingly, Ryuunosuke wasn't put-off by this at all.

"Aw, _c'mon_. Surely you can speculate a bit, right? The suspense is killing me!" the orange-haired youth pleaded, speaking as if he and Kirei were good friends and bringing his cuffed hands together as best he could in a supplicating gesture. "Pretty please, with the Messiah's innocent blood on top? You'd be following Christ's example by doing a kindness for a condemned man!"

Kirei frowned slightly from where he sat behind the study's desk watching the church's prisoner. He had no desire to indulge the serial killer's curiosity and was even less predisposed to show him any kindness, but if he didn't say something Ryuunosuke would simply move on to another topic and continue talking. And if there was one thing Kirei wanted right now, it was to hear as few words from the young madman as possible. So, going against his instincts and silently hoping that his father would finish his talk with Kariya soon and relieve him of this tribulation, he opened his mouth to answer.

"If you must know, a heretical mage like yourself would normally be executed on the spot. However, because you were brought in alive, the overseer will likely strip you of your command seals and interrogate you first, and the Holy Grail's predisposition for choosing among defeated masters to select a new master means that your death sentence might be postponed until the end of the current war. The disregard you and the other masters have shown for the sanctity of this tournament and its rules has been egregious, and the last thing the Church needs is for an unidentified participant to enter the war and disrupt it even further. However, make no mistake, Uryuu. Whether it is tonight or a week from now, you will be executed for your crimes."

Hearing this, Ryuunosuke's bishounen face scrunched up disapprovingly, and he leaned back against the couch and tutted belittlingly.

"Execution? That sounds waaaay too clean and boring," he complained in the type of unhappy tone a normal person would use to criticize a movie. "If you guys are going to murder me, you should draw it out and make it excruciating. What's the point if I die without the knowledge that I'm _dying_?"

"The point," Kirei stressed in a strained but determinedly even-handed voice, "is that you'll be dead. Your own preferences on the matter do not concern the Church."

"Tsk. Spoken like a true professional, but if that's how you Church guys operate then it's no wonder I haven't seen you smile, like, _at all_ , man." Shaking his head pityingly, Ryuunosuke swung his shackled feet onto the wooden table, fixed his manic gaze on his temporary jailor, and smiled lopsidedly.

"Listen. The way you talk about your job is no different than a gun or a guillotine killing someone, and there's no difference between that and being a forgettable cog in a lifeless machine or, even worse, one of the _salarymen_ you see all over the country." The young man's friendly smile briefly transformed into a scowl as he referenced the concept of the stable, normal life he wholly rejected, but the earnest grin quickly returned as he continued his ad-hoc lecture.

"Honestly, can you think of anything more pathetic than punching the clock all week long, wasting your days on a career you derive no joy from and sleepwalking through life? That's a living death as far as I'm concerned, and it's so tragically _meaningless_ 'cause people could be so much more if they only tried!" The young man jerked forward and almost stood up in exhortative animation but, limited by his physical restraints, settled instead for vigorously shaking his chained hands as he looked at Kirei encouragingly.

"Look, dude," the orange-haired serial killer said kindly, his expression that of a wise sage offering advice, "I know we only just met, so this might sound a _little_ crazy, but if anything I've just said resembles how _you_ feel about your job, then I suggest you give up the priesthood after this Holy Grail War business wraps up and go do something you actually enjoy. It'll put a smile on your scarily taciturn face, and smiling is good for you! Trust me, I do it all the time."

Kirei stiffened at these words. What right did this _heretic_ have to belittle his years of service to the Church and assert that he was wasting his life? Service to God was the highest and noblest calling a human being could pursue, and, while he didn't derive any satisfaction from it, that didn't— _couldn't_ —mean that it was wrong.

"Don't be absurd," Kirei spoke, more than merely annoyed now. "I am a man of the cloth, and I have no need for something as blasphemous and sinful as joy. The knowledge that the world is a better place because of my actions is reward enough."

Ryuunosuke blinked disbelievingly. "Say _what_? Dude, I don't know what's more freakin' messed up—the hollow look on your face when you say that, or the ludicrousness that you think of joy as a sin. Happiness is God's reward for those who've learned how to make their lives worth living, and justifying a life without joy with trite sayings like 'I've saved people!' or 'I've made the world a better place!' is stupid. There will _always_ be people who need saving, and there will always be people who _want_ to save them. If you're not one of them, why stress about it and force yourself to be someone you're not? There will only ever be one of you—we're all one of a kind!—so if there's something—anything!—that makes you happy you should pursue it with all your heart."

Despite his desire to remain composed, Kirei stood up and slammed his hands on the desk. He knew he was becoming upset and that he should return to ignoring his prisoner, but Ryuunosuke's words had just struck a nerve and he felt compelled to refute them. The things that made him happy...it was impossible for them to be anything but a sin!

"What you are saying is ridiculous," Kirei said intently as he strode over to the front of the table Ryuunosuke sat behind and looked down at the aggravatingly blithe psychopath. The priest's gaze was as frigid as ice, but there were hints of deep and troubled cracks in his penetrating stare. "You are promoting hedonism above all else, even above the welfare of others, and you say that _isn't_ a sin? How can it possibly be right to do what you enjoy if it harms other people?"

In response, Ryuunosuke's cherubic smile widened and he leaned back, completely at ease and relaxed as he met Kirei's brown eyes with his own.

"Just because it isn't right doesn't mean it isn't correct. Take me, for example. Yes, my hobby is serial killing. And yes, society says that's a godawful crime. But you know what? The _greatest_ crime—it's no contest!—is not being true to yourself. God created each of us and made us who we are. The things that make us happy are part of his grand design, so if we reject them we are rejecting God's will for us, and why in the hell would anyone want to do that? God's the greatest artist of all time and everything in this world is part of his ultimate masterpiece. The good and the bad, the right and the wrong, the holy and the profane...they're all painted on the same canvas and all have a place in God's magnum opus. So, while what I do for a hobby may not be 'right,' it's certainly _correct_."

Kirei stood, stone-faced and seemingly indifferent, at the end of Ryuunosuke's speech, but deep inside, for the first time in a very long time, he felt true fury. The white-hot, scorching emotion flared inside him at the preposterous unfairness of Ryuunosuke's childishly simple answer to life's philosophical conundrum. The psychopath's words were blasphemous and ran counter to everything Kirei had been taught, and any knowledgeable theologian could easily refute them. Still, Kirei couldn't deny that for Ryuunosuke the facile justification relieved him of all uncertainties and guilt, and that infuriated him. Why should this madman enjoy such serenity when a similar peace was denied him, a man who had dedicated his whole life to God and to keeping others safe from the secret terrors of the world, and why was he _still_ denied an answer of his own after everything he'd done and endured?!

A loud knock on the study's door interrupted Kirei's unsettled thoughts, and his normal stoicism reasserted itself at the familiar sound of his father's footsteps as the older man entered the room and walked up to stand beside him. Kirei quickly worked to banish Ryuunosuke's words from his mind and put this whole unpleasant encounter behind him. He would find his own answer when he met Emiya Kiritsugu, and he couldn't afford to be distracted before then or he'd miss his chance.

Unaware of his son's inner struggle, the elder Kotomine spared him a quick, parental glance before turning to fully regard the church's prisoner. The old man's seemingly perpetually closed eyes narrowed in undisguised censure.

"Uryuu Ryuunosuke," Risei spoke coldly, looking down at the chained young man. "I see you've regained consciousness. You may soon wish you hadn't."

The defeated master chortled in amusement from his easygoing position on the couch. "Ha! Now _that's_ the passion for one's job I was talking about." Nodding once at Kirei, he shook his shackled hands to point at the senior priest. "You see him? There's a man who believes in what he's doing. You? Not so much."

Risei dealt with the madman's words by continuing on as if he hadn't heard them.

"My name is Kotomine Risei, and I am the chief priest of this church and the overseer of the Holy Grail War. You are a defeated master and would normally be entitled to sanctuary, but you forfeited that protection when you transgressed against the rules of both war and God with your cruel and wanton murders of innocent people. You are neither entitled to mercy nor deserving of it, and you will receive none from me. Instead, you will be interrogated, and your command seals will be forcibly removed from your body. That process is excruciatingly painful and is not something I would normally wish upon another, but, with you, I don't think inflicting harm on another man will bother me."

Ryuunosuke responded to these harsh words by laughing uproariously, and Risei's scowl deepened. Turning again to his son, he couldn't keep the contempt he felt for their prisoner out of his voice.

"Removing this heretic from the war is an act almost worth _two_ command seals, not just one, but Kariya was quite pleased with his reward nonetheless. Please see to the Matou master's needs and answer any questions of his while I interrogate Ryuunosuke, and then return to me. I want you to assist me when I extract his command seals.

Kirei's affirmative came a fraction of a second later than was normal for him, but Risei gave no sign of having noticed the delay as he fixed his full attention on the captured master and prepared himself for the unpleasant work that lay ahead. Kirei left him there in the study with the serial killer without a further word and walked out, closing the door behind him. Only then did the troubled priest let the disgust he felt over his _joy_ that he'd be party to Ryuunosuke's imminent suffering show on his face, and the madman's words echoed disturbingly in his mind.

 _"There will always be people who need saving, and there will always be people who want to save them. If you're not one of them, why stress about it and force yourself to be someone you're not? There will only ever be one of you—we're all one of a kind!—so if there's something—anything!—that makes you happy you should pursue it with all your heart."_

 _"Just because it isn't right doesn't mean it isn't correct."_

The scowl on his face deepening, Kirei left to find Kariya.

* * *

Walking through the foreigners' cemetery near the Kotomine Church at night, Kariya studied the fourth command seal—a violent, crimson line that twisted and turned sharply to bisect the other three—on the back of his right hand and smiled smugly. It felt good to _finally_ have an advantage over Tokiomi, and the Matou master's haggard grin transformed itself into a sneer as he anticipated his rival's displeasure when Risei informed the other masters who had been given the reward for defeating Caster.

 _Heh. What was your family motto again, Tokiomi? Some nonsense about 'Remaining refined and relaxed in all matters,' wasn't it? Well, try remaining dignified when you hear that the Matou black sheep has one-upped you, you pretentious bastard!_

The familiar but no less sickening sensation of dozens of tiny creatures torturously coiling inside him in response to his vindictive pleasure interrupted Kariya's upbeat thoughts, but, compared to where his health had been this morning, even this suffering was something to celebrate. Thanks to Kirei's healing, he'd gone from a man on his last leg to a man on his last _legs_ , and for a person measuring his life expectancy in days rather than years that small improvement was huge. Furthering his recent good fortune, the Kotomines had shown him considerable hospitality while he'd been at their church, letting him use their facilities to clean up and giving him new, unsoiled clothes to wear from the parish's donations. In the black cargo pants, matching long sleeve shirt, and dark gray jacket he now wore, he could actually walk through the city during the day without being shunned like a leper if he kept the jacket's hood over his face, and all of this was something to rejoice over, right?

 _...No, not especially_ , Kariya thought sourly in response to his own question after a moment's consideration. _Healthier or not, I'm still a dead man walking, and Caster's demise doesn't change this godawful mess I'm fighting in. Not only has Berserker been lying to me this entire time but she's also a walking_ _ **deathtrap**_ _to me if she goes all out, Rider has an entire damned_ _ **army**_ _at his beck and call, and every minor success is still absolutely pointless if I don't save Sakura. Her happiness is the only thing that matters in this miserable war._

His earlier mirth displaced by more oppressive thoughts, Kariya stopped and looked around at the hundreds of tombstones and other memorials in the graveyard. With only the stars and moonlight to see by it was too dark for him to make out the names of the deceased, but he knew that most of the graves were the final resting places of the traders and missionaries from Europe who'd settled in the city in the latter 1800s after nearby Nagasaki became a free port. He also knew that more than a few belonged to foreign mages and other victims of the previous three Holy Grail Wars, and that knowledge was a sobering reminder of the long odds he faced trying to win a war that had never been won before. Still, as volatile as his moods were these days, he knew he _needed_ that reminder to keep him grounded...especially for the conversation he'd come here to have.

 _And at least out here if anyone sees Berserker and me they'll be more likely to assume we're family paying our respects to the dead and arguing rather than a shady older man trying to have his way with a schoolgirl at night. Gods know I don't need that kind of attention right now, and Zouken doesn't deserve the amusement, damn him to hell._

Shaking his head once to clear it, Kariya mustered his resolve and braced himself for what was coming. Willingly or not, Berserker would answer his questions tonight.

"Berserker, appear."

The blue-haired swordswoman materialized a half-dozen feet in front of him beside a cross-shaped, granite headstone. She wore the same blue jacket and jeans he had first seen her in on the morning after her summoning, and, at first glance, her youthful expression was as confident and upbeat as it had ever been. However, despite his crest-worm addled mind, he remained perceptive enough to see the tightness in her face, and he could tell that she wasn't looking forward to this conversation any more than he was.

 _Good. She_ _ **shouldn't**_ , Kariya thought spitefully before, begrudgingly, calming himself. There was a smart way to go about this and a stupid, angry way, and his good fortune so far this day had mollified him enough to recognize that the latter would only makes things worse between them.

"...We have a lot to talk about tonight, Berserker...but, before that, congratulations are in order," Kariya spoke slowly, watching Sayaka intently with his good eye. "Good work finishing Caster off. With him eliminated everyone in Fuyuki is a little bit safer, and it brings us one step closer to winning the Holy Grail."

"...Eh, think nothing of it!" the Servant of Madness answered after a brief pause as she raised a hand to the back of her head modestly. "I was only doing what any ally of justice would do...though, yeah, the way that battle ended was super cool. It might've even been one of my top ten awesome moments."

Sayaka's words were lighthearted, but there was an undertone of anxiety in her voice as she waited for the idiomatic other shoe to drop. She'd been on edge ever since she'd met back up with him outside the church with Caster's master in tow and informed him that Sola-Ui had agreed to let him have the extra command seal. After that, she'd only stayed long enough to hand Ryuunosuke over to Father Kotomine's custody, turning invisible and waiting outside afterwards while he spoke privately with the overseer. Her contrite behavior reminded him of Rin and Sakura, but only slightly. Rin hated being wrong and would stubbornly justify her actions for as long as possible to avoid admitting she'd made a mistake, while Sakura was the complete opposite and would confess any wrongdoing almost immediately. Sayaka apparently fell somewhere between the two extremes and was letting him take the lead, for which he was grateful. He didn't need her protests or excuses right now; right now, he needed the _truth_.

"Right," he answered, exhaling deeply and beginning to scowl as he thought back to last night. "However, a good deed doesn't get you off the hook. Not for this. You've been lying to me since we met, and that's completely _unacceptable_! I don't know what your reasons were, but I can tell you right now that they're nowhere near good enough to justify what you did. The only thing I care about in this war is saving Sakura from Zouken, and you jeopardized _everything_ last night with your recklessness and lies. So, no more excuses. You promised me an explanation earlier today, and I want to hear it _now_."

Kariya winced slightly at the harshness of his own voice, but he had never taken kindly to being lied to. It reminded him too much of the world of mages he'd walked away from before Sakura's desperate plight dragged him back. He despised their inhumanity, but he also loathed their secretiveness and how everyone was hiding something. That was no way to live, and he _hated_ it.

Sayaka, for her part, pursed her lips together pensively and sighed. Folding her hands behind her back and leaning against the headstone, she looked up at him with an expression that was equal parts resolve and resignation.

"The truth is complicated, Matou...but that's no excuse, and I totally should've told you my secrets earlier. It's just that...well, I'm different from the other heroes summoned in this war. Diarmuid, Alexander the Great, the late and not-so-great Lovecraftian horror reject Gilles de Rais, Skull Mask Guy, Rule 63 King Arthur, and whoever that jerk with the bling Archer is...they are all heroes of the past. I, on the other hand, am a hero of the _future_."

A crooked smile flashed across Sayaka's face almost immediately after she uttered this revelatory statement, and a self-deprecating chuckle emerged from her throat as she slowly shook her head and looked down glumly. The young girl's voice was heavy and reproving as she continued.

"That's what I'd like to say, anyway. A 'hero of the future' sounds super cool, like something out of an anime, but that gives me _way_ more credit than I deserve. I—" Sayaka grimaced, as if swallowing something bitter, but forced herself to go on. "—wasn't much of a hero. Sure, I saved a couple lives and slew a few monsters, but I made awful mistakes along the way, and those mistakes...they were..."

The blue-haired swordswoman's face scrunched up gloomily as she struggled to find the words. Turning to the side and closing her eyes, she paused for a moment to absorb the sepulchral ambiance surrounding her and reflect on her short life. Then, having put her thoughts in order, she started again.

"Hey Matou, remember when I first explained how my powers work and told you that using magic darkens my soul gem?" she asked slowly, her voice calm but haunted. "That darkening...well, it's the reason why I qualify for the Berserker class. The blacker my soul gem becomes, the more messed up in the head I become. And while becoming 'a mindless badass fueled by unstoppable rage' may sound super awesome on paper, it's absolutely terrifying when you become so _angry_ that you can't tell the difference between friend and foe anymore and want everyone to feel as awful as you do. I...I lost myself to that madness and hurt people—I _killed_ people—and I can't even say that my reasons were good. Just some stupid preteen drama and an even stupider overreaction on my part. If it wasn't for my best friend...if she hadn't done the impossible and found a way to save me...I would've spent the rest of my life as a monster."

Sayaka suddenly shuddered and hugged herself protectively. Turning again to face her master, she looked up and met his gray-eyed gaze with her own ocean blue, but she didn't see him. Instead, her eyes were locked on a distant and far-off memory that terrified her.

"My reality marble, Symposium Magarum, is a malevolent maze that belongs to that _monster_. I can only sustain it for thirty minutes before my soul gem shatters, and, as far as I'm concerned, that's thirty minutes too long. Symposium Magarum embodies all of my failures as a hero, and it turns me into something I never want to become again 'cause once it's up and running I lose myself to the madness. And, just as in life, there's nothing I can do to save myself once I fall that far. Only a command seal can make me end it, and even then I'd probably haveta suck you dry of mana before I start thinking straight again."

Sighing once more, Sayaka looked down uncomfortably and lightly kicked the ground, ashamed of her past but refusing to run from it as she took a deep breath and finished.

"So that's why. That's the reason I never told you about my ultimate noble phantasm. It's an _awful_ power that forces me to relive the worst nightmare of my life, and I had hoped I could keep quiet about it and never use it. Considering the opposition that was super stupid of me, I know, but I can be a total idiot about certain things...and this is one of them. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The young Servant of Madness fell silent after this and anxiously waited for her master's response. She was kept waiting for over a minute as Kariya carefully mulled over what he'd just been told and frowned uncertainly. Of all the possible answers he'd expected, this was nowhere near any of them. A hero of the future? What did that actually mean, and what did it mean to him that she was a _fallen_ hero of the future?

"What...what happened after your friend saved you?" Kariya asked hoarsely, his throat dry and his mind awhirl with the need for more information, with the need for _clarity_. "And how far into the future do you come from?"

Sayaka uncrossed her arms, and some of her characteristic lightheartedness returned to her voice. "J-Pop legends SMAP were still together and producing music when I died, and 'The Wonderful World of Sazae-san' is still going strong too...but that TV series has been on the air since 1969 and could continue for another century without stopping, so saying that is super not helpful. Approximately two decades in the future is a better estimate so, thankfully, we don't need to worry about running into a mini-me and causing a temporal paradox that destroys the world. That's a doubly good thing, too, 'cause I'd probably try to punch the stupid out of mini-me. As for your first question..."

Miki Sayaka smiled. It was a breathtakingly beautiful smile radiating such heartrendingly profound, immeasurable gratitude that, for a moment, the entire world seemed pale and insignificant in comparison.

"I died as a human," she answered simply, her voice clear and thankful. "Protecting my friends at the same time was a bonus, but still having my humanity at the very end is what mattered most. Compared to the other fates I could've met...there's nothing I can ever do to repay my friend for what she did for me, but there's nothing I'd prefer doing than trying anyway. That's why...that's why I want to help you save Sakura. More than it being the right thing to do, more than this being a second chance to prove that I can be hero...it's what _she_ would do, and I owe it to her to try."

Kariya stood still, having no idea how to respond to what he'd just heard and the powerful emotions in his servant's words. This…this was a lot more to take in than he'd expected, and everything remained so damned complicated! He wanted to believe Berserker's story; he wanted to believe that the young girl standing before him truly was who she claimed to be and that no one could lie that well with a child's face. And yet...for all the seemingly heartfelt sincerity in her words, Berserker's story remained extremely farfetched. Zouken had drilled enough of the Holy Grail War's history into his head in between destroying his body for Kariya to know that the Fuyuki Grail had never summoned a future heroic spirit before and that, even _if_ such a feat were possible, doing so would require a powerful catalyst to bridge the divide between today and tomorrow. He hadn't used any catalysts other than his own blood, sweat, and tears, and how could that have possibly summoned _her_? Moreover, Berserker had already lied to him before now, so it wasn't as if she had a track record of honesty. He could use a command seal to be certain, but was that certainty worth the high cost?

These thoughts and more whirled through Kariya's mind like a contradictory, chaotic fever, leaving him helpless and torn by indecision. Should he assume the best or the worst? Trust his own pain-addled judgment or rely on compulsory obedience? He wanted more time—he wanted a clear mind and a context in which the stakes weren't so horrifically high!—to make a level-headed decision, but time was not a luxury he could afford. With Caster dead, the ceasefire was officially over and the war would resume in earnest tomorrow. Keeping Berserker hanging until then wouldn't do anyone any good and wouldn't make this choice any easier. He had to decide, and he had to decide _now_.

Slowly, unhappily, the beleaguered Matou master walked over to his servant and crouched so that they were at eye level. The blue-eyed girl steadfastly met his gaze, prepared for anything he might say.

"...The first time I saw you, I didn't know what to expect...and I still don't," Kariya spoke tiredly, his voice strained and frustrated. "You've lied to me, but you've also helped me, and you've tried to live up to your 'ally of justice' talk more often than not. Whether it's all been one huge deception or not...I can't say. My judgment is shot to hell right now, and it takes most of my concentration just to think straight. Still, if you can fake the sincerity you just displayed, then you're an even better liar than _Zouken_ and not even a command seal would pry the truth out of you. I'll take you at your word one more time, Berserker, but if you give me _any_ reason to doubt you again—any reason _at all_ —that's it. You won't get any third chances from me. Understood?"

At this, Sayaka smiled again, this time as if a great weight had been lifted from her, and she raised her right hand in a faux military salute.

"Yessir, crystal clear...and thank you. I'll tell you everything you need to know from here on out, but for the rest—such as which baseball team wins this year's Japan Championship Series—the time traveler's code comes first. Revealing too much about the future could invoke the Butterfly Effect and create a world twenty years from now where 'Hello Kitty' has founded a new Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere and is at war with Mickey Mouse's North American Kingdom, and no one over five years old would want that!"

Kariya snorted, genuinely amused by the ridiculous possibility, and Sayaka grinned wryly and joined in with her own quiet laughter a moment later. The tensions and distrust between master and servant weren't completely gone, but they had reconciled, and this was a moment of relief for both of them...and another piece of news that the other, unseen servant nearby would pass on to his own master later tonight along with a selectively _edited_ version of the Matou master and Berserker's conversation.

 _So very much information to share, but nowhere_ _ **near**_ _enough time to report it all_ , Assassin reflected with false regret. _I'll simply have to prioritize, and what isn't important right now...well, I'm sure there'll be another opportunity for my master and his partner to discover what the shadows already know._

* * *

The Tohsaka manor's basement was unmistakably the workshop of a mage. Diagrams of magic circles with accompanying arcane verses traced by hand on aging parchment paper adorned the walls; scrolls, books, and other arcane paraphernalia were neatly stacked and organized in receptacles and bookshelves throughout the room; a long, rectangular wooden table worn and lined by the countless spells and thaumaturgical experiments it had borne witness to ran through the center of the rectangular study; and, rather than electricity, flickering candelabra and the occasional glowing gemstone illuminated the dwelling. This was a chamber of secrets, and Tokiomi complemented it perfectly in his elegant crimson suit as he calmly sat in a chair in front of his work desk, outwardly relaxed and dignified with his hands contemplatively steepled in front of him, and listened intently to the voices issuing from the enchanted phonograph facing him.

"I finished my interrogation of Uryuu Ryuunosuke a little over an hour ago," Risei spoke from the phonograph's sibling inside the Fuyuki Church's basement, his voice somber and containing a hint of uncharacteristically unsuppressed disgust. "He is even more deranged than we suspected, a true sociopath with no regard for the lives he's taken. Fortunately for us, though, he is also completely ignorant of the moonlit world. His summoning of Caster was done without any genuine knowledge of magecraft, on a demented whim just to see what would happen. As such, it was simple for me to neutralize him and, with my son's help, remove his command seals. Uryuu no longer has any rights as a master."

Tokiomi permitted himself a slight smile. "Excellent. Then the Grail's error has been rectified, as it should be. Those who aren't mages have no place in this war. Still, I wonder...did you confirm if—"

"Yes, Uryuu Ryuunosuke belongs to _that_ Uryuu lineage, albeit one of the branches that no longer practices magecraft," Risei interrupted, answering his longtime friend's question before the fire mage finished asking it. "I questioned him about the names of his parents and grandparents and was able to retrace the family tree. As for what we should do with him next, I'll let my son explain. Kirei?"

From where he sat, Tokiomi heard the sound of his apprentice's heavy footfall as the young man stepped forward to stand beside his father. There was a moment's pause, and then Kirei spoke.

"Because Uryuu lacks any formal magecraft training and was unaware of magic's existence until a week ago, the simplest solution is to modify his recent memories to remove his knowledge of the Holy Grail War and then transfer him to the custody of law enforcement to answer for his crimes. Making him disappear instead would leave the serial murder case unsolved, and the enduring scrutiny that'd invite would be troublesome for all of us. Unless you object, Tokiomi, my father and I will keep Uryuu imprisoned in the basement tombs until after the Grail War ends. Then, we can direct our agents in the police force to the late Caster's lair and plant evidence that'll identify and convict Uryuu as the serial murderer. Once he has been charged and is in prison, we can arrange for a lethal mishap that'll eliminate any future risks he might pose."

Tokiomi considered his apprentice's proposal in silence for several seconds before nodding his head in assent.

"I concur. As much as dealing immediately with such a reprehensible desecrator of the arcane arts would please me, we must always keep the larger picture in mind. Having him arrested now would generate a media circus we don't need, and making him disappear instead would leave another unsolved mystery for the uninitiated to ponder. Your and Risei's solution neatly resolves both conundrums, and I offer no objections."

"Then it will be done, and I shall pray for a quick resolution to this war. The sooner that madman is removed from my church, the better," Risei answered quickly, a note of contempt slipping into his normally granite-like voice. Hearing it, Tokiomi felt a stirring of sympathy for his longtime friend. Interrogating Caster's master must have been even more unpleasant than he'd imagined, and he could imagine much. He considered offering a supportive word, but the old priest wasn't finished.

"With that settled, we have the other news of the night to discuss...and it is in some regards even more troubling. Between what I extracted from Uryuu and what Kariya divulged when he came to claim the extra command seal, I have an overview of the battle against Caster and have identified Rider's ultimate noble phantasm." Risei sighed once, heavily, unable to keep the sense of awe and dread from his voice at what he'd learned.

"Rider's ultimate noble phantasm is Ionian Hetairoi, a reality marble that recreates the desert Rider and his armies journeyed across in life and summons his tens of thousands of soldiers as lesser servants. It is too powerful to be given a rank, Tokiomi, and may even be equal to Archer's Gate of Babylon."

Even with his extensive practice at maintaining a calm composure that revealed nothing, Tokiomi couldn't suppress his startled gasp. He had suspected that someone as famous as the King of Conquerors would have a more powerful noble phantasm than just his lightning chariot, but a reality marble? It defied all logic...but dignity was required in all matters, and he would be betraying his family creed if he let this perturb him. Besides, there was still more to hear.

"Then it is fortunate we discovered this before Archer and Rider could fight. Without making preparations beforehand, we'd have no way to defend ourselves. Still, you said that Kariya received the command seal instead of Rider's master, so I take it there was a complication in the battle?"

Risei's displeased voice answered him almost immediately. "Yes. Rider employed his noble phantasm to counter Caster's legion of water demons, but doing so made Caster sufficiently desperate to sacrifice himself to his own demonic grimoire to summon a gigantic horror that feasted on souls. Had it broken out of Rider's reality marble the leviathan could've devoured the entire _city_ before daybreak. Fortunately, Berserker stepped in where Rider's soldiers couldn't and used Lancer's spears to carve a path through the monster's body to its heart and destroy Prelati's Spellbook."

Kirei, who'd remained silent throughout his father's account, suddenly spoke up.

"Assassin speculates that, based on this and their own observations, Berserker's regenerative abilities affect more than just her physical body. We know that she has a counter to a soul-draining noble phantasm and that she can cleanse the insanity of Mad Enhancement from her mind, and it would make more sense if these were all manifestations of a single power rather than three. This is, as I said, though, only speculation, and we have been unable to confirm it. Despite his distressed state and the trust he places in the Holy Church, Kariya retains enough sense not to carelessly reveal his servant's abilities."

At this, Tokiomi stroked his chin thoughtfully and uttered a contemplative 'hmm'.

"A noble phantasm that heals the mind, the body, and the soul? That sounds like true restoration or something unwelcomingly similar, and, if true, would make Berserker nearly impossible to kill unless a decisively fatal blow is struck. It does match what we know about her, though, and speaking of that...has Assassin learned anything else about Berserker?"

"Yes. Assassin followed Berserker and Kariya to the nearby cemetery after they left the church and spied on them as she apologized to her master for her reckless actions last night and for keeping her past a secret. If her subsequent confession is to be believed, Berserker is a heroic spirit from approximately two decades in the future. She did not speak specifically of what great feats she accomplished in life to elevate her soul to the Throne of Heroes, but Assassin tells me that her legend—whatever it may be—shares the same elements of madness and tragedy common to those who qualify for the Berserker class."

Tokiomi's blue eyes widened in surprise at this revelation, and his keen mind rapidly seized upon it and analyzed it from all possible angles. Another seeming impossibility in this Grail War...until you actually _thought_ about it and realized it wasn't. Slowly, he smiled, his expression self-satisfied as he made sense of the mystery.

"I must hand it to Zouken. Summoning a hero of the future? That answers a great many questions, including how he overcame the Grail's restriction barring heroic spirits of the Far East. That prohibition only applies to heroic spirits of the past because the possibility of summoning a hero of the future never occurred to the Founders nor, until tonight, had it occurred to me either. Heroic spirits of the modern era are few and far between and becoming rarer with each passing decade, and identifying a relic that will become associated with a future legend requires either herculean prescience or phenomenal luck."

"You sound pleased by this development," Risei spoke severely, and Tokiomi had no trouble picturing the disapproving frown on his friend's solemn features. "Whether this is a violation of the _letter_ of the rules or not, Zouken has still seemingly exploited a previously unknown loophole. The late Lord El-Melloi did likewise when he split the master-servant contract with his fiancée, and Caster's summoning was anything but regular. Such deviations bode poorly for the future of this war and the Church's ability to manage it if they continue to add up like this."

"I understand your concerns and share them, my friend, but I also appreciate sheer elegance in simplicity when I see it," Tokiomi answered back, half-placatingly, as he did just that. Summoning a heroic spirit from Japan's future, he realized, would maximize the servant's geographical bonuses, and whatever power was lost from the absence of fame in the present would be compensated by the Berserker class's Mad Enhancement skill. Thinking about the possibilities further, it occurred to him that Berserker's encrypted stats could be a natural safeguard to shield history rather than a modification of Zouken's servant design, and that anonymity would usually be another valuable advantage in a Holy Grail War. In this one, though...not so much, not when the King of Heroes, the King of Knights, and the King of Conquerors were all on the same battlefield and Berserker's own master was so inadequate to the task. At least he now understood why Zouken had taken the time to train his son, though. The Fourth Grail War may be a loss for the Matou, but the sheer unlikelihood of victory gave Zouken every incentive to experiment in preparation for the Fifth. He'd have to write a note for his descendants to look into this phenomenon further—

"Berserker's irregularity aside," Kirei suddenly spoke up, interrupting the fire mage's musings, "the overall situation is becoming disadvantageous for us. Rider, Lancer, and Berserker are collaborating to eliminate the other servants, and, unless their partnership falls apart, it is only a matter of time before they set their sights on Archer. Can the King of Heroes defeat three enemy servants working together, Tokiomi?"

Tokiomi felt his good mood at pondering an interesting arcane mystery swiftly disappear at this question, and the corners of his lips pursed downward in a slight but unmistakable frown.

"Archer is too temperamental to know for certain. If he draws the Sword of Rupture from the Gate of Babylon, yes. Not even a reality marble can stand against that miracle. However, the King of Heroes is not predisposed to show his ultimate treasure to those he deems unworthy, and if he toys with his opponents instead of taking them seriously...the battle could easily go against him."

Hearing that, Risei sighed unhappily. "I don't envy you your burden, Tokiomi. Managing a servant at the best of times is difficult, but it seems the King of Uruk is in a league all his own even when he's in a good mood."

"Archer hasn't been in a good mood since his summoning," Tokiomi remarked dryly. "I seemingly bore him, and the whole of the modern world offends him...but if I was accustomed to reigning over the glories of the Age of the Gods like he is, I suppose I would be offended too by the mundanity of the present day. His personality is simply another matter that requires delicate handling."

 _ **Very**_ _delicate handling_ , Tokiomi thought privately, suppressing a wince. Debasing himself by assuming such a servile manner in a relationship where the roles would properly be reversed offended his pride, but there was no helping it. Ultimately, the goal of reaching the Root trumped everything else, and possessing Gilgamesh as a servant guaranteed a Tohsaka victory if he played his cards right.

Sensing a pause in the conversation, Kirei rejoined the discussion by raising another concern.

"Rider's alliance with Lancer and Berserker isn't the only element of the war turning against us," the young priest warned solemnly, his voice devoid of emotion. "We must also be wary of my own servant, Assassin. The Hashashin have a wish of their own for the Holy Grail, and they are discerning enough to know that they can only obtain it through Archer's elimination...and possibly yours as well, Tokiomi. By the same token, Assassin must realize that our need for her has considerably lessened now that we've identified the remaining servants and, to greater and lesser extents, know their skills and noble phantasms. She will betray us soon if we don't betray her first."

In his basement study, Tokiomi tilted his head to the side and cupped his chin pensively. "Yes, we've talked about this before, but using your command seals to order Assassin to commit suicide seems wasteful. I'd prefer to get as much use out of the Servant of the Shadows as we can before eliminating her, although current constraints do make that difficult. Zouken knows about our charade and can be counted on to happily report the Church's lack of...impartiality to the Mage's Association if a master dies suspiciously. What we need is a way for Assassin to break up the alliances that have formed in a way that won't be traced...back...to...us...Hmm..."

"Do you have an idea, Tokiomi?" Risei asked.

Tokiomi folded his hands together again and smiled faintly.

"Yes, old friend. Yes, I do."

* * *

 **The next night.**

Saber stood in her black suit on one of the Einzbern castle's balconies, her gloved hands on the railing and an unhappy frown on her deceptively youthful face as she surveyed the moonlit forest that surrounded and shrouded the estate. Irisviel was currently watching over her husband, and she had left the bedroom so that Emiya's wife could be alone with him. She was no expert on romantic relationships—Guinevere and Lancelot's affair was evidence enough of her own woeful shortcomings in that area—but she understood enough to recognize the importance of privacy and the need for time together, especially during a crisis.

 _And what else can this be called, if not a crisis? My master is comatose, my left hand is handicapped, and the war goes on with us relegated to the sidelines. A cruel farce, perhaps?_

Her frown deepening, Saber sighed in frustration. Nothing about this Holy Grail War was going the way she would've wished. She was bound to a cold and hollow man who, even if his goal was as pure and heroic as Irisviel claimed, neither valued nor respected honor. His wife, a much better, kinder person in Saber's opinion, was keeping secrets of her own—Saber was a king, and she knew how to gauge a person's character. Irisviel wasn't being completely forthcoming with her, and even if her reasons were good—and Saber believed they must be—it still troubled her and provided even more for her to worry about. Perhaps most vexing, though, was her inability to act in accordance with her own cherished code of chivalry. She was the King of Knights, but one would hardly know that based on her conduct in this war thus far.

 _Lancer, Berserker, and Rider joined together to hunt down a deranged and dangerous lunatic guilty of crimes against both God and man. They acted as heroes should—as_ _ **knights**_ _must—but I? I was used as_ _ **bait**_ _to entrap and assassinate another master and took no part in the battle against Caster. The Round Table would be disappointed in me._ _ **I**_ _am disappointed in me...but for their sake, and for Britain, I must endure._

A distant flash of blue lightning on the horizon interrupted Saber's melancholic reverie, and her green eyes instantly narrowed as, instead of disappearing, the electrical bolt rapidly drew closer.

 _Saber_ , she heard Irisviel's worried voice speak in her mind, _the estate's bounded field has been penetrated! There's an intruder—_

 _Stay where you are with Emiya and contact Hisau! I'll deal with the intruder_ , Saber commanded, springing into action as she summoned her armor and invisible sword and dashed through the castle to the front entrance hall. _Judging by this frontal assault and the lightning I saw, the enemy is most likely Rider._

Saber had her suspicions confirmed a minute later when Rider's war chariot, currents of electricity crackling around it, barreled through the castle's recently repaired front doors. To her surprise, though, Rider was clothed in a white shirt and blue jeans instead of his bronze armor and cape. His young master sat in the chariot behind him next to a large cask with a look of put-upon resignation on his face. To Saber's further surprise, Lancer and Berserker were with them in the chariot too, both of them also wearing non-combat attire.

 _A joint attack?! No, Lancer would never condone such an act, and he shows no sign of being under a command seal's compulsion. ...However, the pact between our masters does not apply to Rider, so are they here to watch as he challenges me?_

Saber opened her mouth to demand Rider state his business here. Rider raised a hand to cheerfully greet her. However, faster and more loudly than either of them, Sayaka frantically leapt out of the chariot, landed on her knees on the tiled floor, and then emphatically kissed the ground.

"You madman!" she shouted a second later, turning to point an accusing finger at Rider who, in turn, regarded her in bemusement. "Where did you learn to drive?! I haven't been so fearful for my life in a moving vehicle since that one time Kyouko took me joyriding in a stolen red Corvette!"

Rider blinked once and then laughed heartily. "I assure you, I received charioteering lessons from the finest teachers in Macedonia! Besides, you seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier when we were flying above the city."

"Those were screams of terror, not joy!" Sayaka rebutted, but there was a smile on her face and it was clear she didn't mean the words she spoke. "And that gaggle of geese we passed? Totally traumatized because of you!"

"Actually," Lancer interjected sagely, breaking his silence, "we passed a 'skein' of geese. A flock of geese is only a gaggle if they're earthbound. If the flock is in flight, they're a skein. I'm a hunter as well as a warrior, so the distinction is important to me."

Waver shot the three servants an incredulous look and shook his head, fearing that Rider's madness was contagious. Saber, for her part, felt her eyes twitch.

" _What_ ," she demanded with an authority in her voice derived from many years of ruling a kingdom and leading a band of stubborn, trouble-seeking knights, "are you doing _here_?"

"You mean you can't tell?" Rider asked, grinning as he reached for the cask and hefted it onto his right shoulder. "I'm here to drink and see your castle! So how about you stop standing there like a statue and show us around the place?"

Hearing this, Saber, Servant of the Sword, the King of Knights, and the Once and Future King of Britain, face-palmed. This...was apparently going to be a _very_ long night.

* * *

Author's Notes: Zahra, from what I understand, is a Persian and Arabic female name that has meanings along the lines of "bright," "beautiful," and "flower." It struck me as appropriate for an Assassin who hides in plain sight, and I also like the way it sounds so I decided to run with it. I considered using the Female Assassin's name, Asako, instead, but that seemed lazy to me and it also didn't have the Middle Eastern feel I wanted.

Also, Victor Janus and EVA-Saiyajin both have my thanks for their help with this chapter. Victor's responsible for the Kirei and Ryuunosuke scene—he suggested I include a conversation between the two of them which, in retrospect, is such a brilliant idea that I'm banging my head against the wall for not thinking of it first. EVA, meanwhile, made some insightful comments about Saber's possible thoughts on the war's current state that informed her POV in this chapter. If anyone else has what they feel are good ideas for future content, please feel free to share them. I can't promise I'll use them but, as readers may have noticed, I borrow _heavily_. Latest case in point? Kyouko taking Sayaka joyriding in a fancy red car. I suspect a few of the people reading this story might recognize where I lifted that awesome idea from.


	15. Ch12 - She chose martyrdom

Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus

Author: Rowan Seven

Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.

* * *

Chapter Twelve – She chose to become a martyr.

"Halt, stranger! You stand before the guardian of the great gate and protector of this most sacred sanctuary, Ryuudou Temple! Name yourself and state your business, or face the judgment of my cursed blade!"

Sayaka, wearing her blue jacket and jeans ensemble and standing on the stone steps just below the wooden tower gate leading into Ryuudou Temple, blinked incredulously at the boisterous teenage girl challenging her. She was a pony-tailed brunette clothed in Homurahara's brown and white school uniform with a wooden kendo sword lazily swung over her right shoulder, and the expression on her heart-shaped face was brash and eager. Sayaka was tempted to go full chuunibyou and respond in kind to the teenager, but the oppressive bounded field surrounding her made her uneasy and cautious. Someone in the past had seen fit to ward the temple grounds against heroic spirits, and if she strayed from the mountain path at all the full force of the bounded field would come crashing down on her. Even on the mountain path, the sense of hostility all around Sayaka made her feel borderline claustrophobic, and she was thus uncharacteristically nonflamboyant in her response.

"Eh?"

Untroubled by the equivocation, the teenage girl's cheerful smirk widened, and she swung her shinai forward and effortlessly assumed a polished defensive stance. Beside her, a dark-haired boy of about the same age wearing the male equivalent of her uniform held his head in his hands and watched these proceedings in equal parts resignation, exasperation, and amusement.

"Silence won't save you, stranger! No one can deceive my beautiful eyes, and I know a fellow swordswoman when I see one 'cause I'm awesome like that! Now, identify yourself or receive the divine punishment of the gods enshrined here!"

The words were bold, but mischief danced in the brunette's brown eyes as she spoke and Sayaka recognized the playful tone as one she'd often used herself around Madoka and Hitomi. She felt a small, nostalgic smile form as the brunette's male companion sighed and shook his head disapprovingly.

"It's too early for this. As nice as it is to see you up and ready in the morning for a change, we still need to meet up with Hotaruzuka and get to school before classes start. Besides, there are already enough scary rumors floating around town without you starting a new one about a crazy temple sentinel."

"I'm not crazy if I'm right! Look at her!" the kendoka retorted spiritedly, pointing her shinai at Sayaka for emphasis. "Doesn't the blue-haired mystery girl look suspicious to you?"

Sensing a kindred spirit and cheered by the familiarity of these over-the-top antics, Sayaka relaxed, exaggeratedly crossed her arms, and huffed in feigned indignation. "Hey, I'll have you two know that I'm not just any ordinary mystery girl. I'm the _original_ international girl of mystery, the one and only Miki Sayaka! If you want an autograph you'll have to wait 'cause there's a queue, but as a consolation prize you can see my smile—which is a gift to the whole world!—for free."

"Heh. Well, I don't like to brag," the brunette said in a tone that implied just the opposite, "but _my_ smile is a gift from the divine Amaterasu and blesses mankind with the Sun Goddess's radiant light every time I beam. I'd tell you more but I don't want to overwhelm you with my sheer awesomeness. Moreover, you have finally identified yourself, and when an opponent provides her name I am honor-bound to do the same."

The teenage kendoka flourished her shinai and bowed respectfully. "Rising star of Homurahara Academy's kendo team, universally beloved school idol, and definitely _not_ a yakuza heiress, the legendary Fujimura Taiga! And this scruffy-looking fellow over here is temple gate guardian number two, Ryuudou Reikan. His father runs this place."

Reikan placed his hands over his heart and pretended to be hurt. " _Scruffy-looking?_ You wound me, Fujimura. Do you know how much time in front of the mirror I spend each morning making myself look good just for you? Couldn't you have said 'ruggedly attractive' or 'roguishly handsome' instead?"

"My 'ruggedly attractive,' _child sidekick_ , Ryuu—"

"Okay, okay, I get the point. You're not impressed! Still, it wouldn't hurt you to be a _little_ nicer to me, Fujimura. After all, I'm being polite enough not to call you by your nickname, so you could at least show me the same amount of respect," he muttered with faux petulance, shooting Sayaka a conspiratorial wink just before Taiga turned and leveled an angry glare at him. Catching the boy's meaning, the puella magi smirked.

"Oh?" she asked, voice syrupy sweet. "What nickname would that be?"

"IT'S NOT IMPORTANT!" Taiga yelled in a panic, reversing herself to face Sayaka with pleading eyes. Then, collecting herself, she roughly elbowed Reikan in the side. "Right, Ryuudou? It's not important at all!"

Coughing, Reikan obligingly nodded his head but didn't sound convinced. "Yeaah...not important at all. You said the same thing about studying for that math test last week, and we both know how _that_ turned out...but, topics that'll only cause me physical pain later on aside, isn't there something you should say to Miki, Fujimura, now that proper introductions have been made?"

"Tenno Heika Banzai?"

Reikan gave Taiga a _look_. Taiga feigned innocence. Sayaka peered at both of them, the smirk on her face growing. And then all three erupted in amused, childish laughter.

"Ha! Thanks for playing along, and sorry about all this," Taiga eventually apologized, her left hand clutching her stomach as chuckles continued to escape her while her right kept her sword planted against the ground. "I'm heading into the mountains soon to train for a tournament and am trying to psyche myself up. My stunning beauty alone won't win all of my matches, after all!"

"Yeah, 'cause using your good looks to seduce the referees is totally something someone who is 'definitely not a yakuza heiress' would do-Oomph!" Reikan gasped as a sharp elbow jabbed him in the side again. Rolling his eyes at Taiga, who childishly stuck out her tongue in kind, he turned to address Sayaka.

"My friend may be overly excitable and _unjustifiably_ violent, but Fujimaru has a good heart and was telling the truth when she said that my father is the high priest here. The two of us really will be late if we don't depart soon, but if you're looking for something or have any questions I can spare a few moments to point you in the right direction."

Sayaka bowed in thanks but waved them on. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm only here to write down a wish for the goma fire ritual, and I can manage that easily enough on my own. Go on ahead, and good luck at school! And in your tournament too! If your opponents and the refs aren't stunned by your good looks, knock them over the head with your shinai until they're _literally_ stunned!"

"That's what I'm afraid will happen," Reikan dead-panned with an amused eye-roll while Taiga tittered happily. Smiling, the two students spoke their good-byes and then, nearly running, rushed down the stone steps.

Sayaka stood still and watched them go, her eyes lingering on their retreating backs and a whimsical grin on her face. For a brief moment, teasing and joking with those two, she had felt _normal_ , and it was a nostalgic reminder of what her life had been like before she accepted Kyubey's contract. Her smile dimmed slightly when she glanced down at her silver ring, but she quickly put the dark thoughts aside and walked through the tower gate into the temple-grounds proper. She was here for a reason, and getting sentimental would only distract her.

Her mood improved as the feel of the land's bounded field pushing against her receded, and she stretched her arms lazily as she entered the temple courtyard. Ryuudou's main sanctuary with its large incense burner stood in the very center of the complex, and a thick trail of fragrant smoke already wafted up from the censer as several early morning worshippers paid their respects. Sayaka mingled among them for a minute, breathing in the smoke and rubbing it against her body for good health, before moving deeper into the courtyard. She nodded politely at the robe-clad monks performing their morning duties as she walked past the sutra repository, their living quarters, and the lecture hall. Finally, she stopped at the temple's storefront and, smiling affably at the young monk in charge, exchanged three one-hundred yen coins for a wooden goma stick. Walking the small board over to a nearby table and grabbing a marker, she slowly wrote down her wish.

 **May every lost soul find its way home. ~Miki Sayaka**

She stared down at the words, and her good mood evaporated. The words stared back at her in their inadequacy to convey all that she wanted them to, and she sighed unhappily. Sending wishes to the gods by burning them in the fire of the sacred goma ritual was an age-old tradition, and offering a prayer for Caster's many victims this way had seemed like a great idea when she thought of it last night. But now that she was here and had written the message, the gesture seemed insufficient and felt more like an apology than a wish. They were dead, she hadn't arrived in time to save them, and mega-exploding Caster's monster didn't change any of that.

 _I'm sorry_ , she thought privately, lowering her head. _This is the only thing I can do for you now. I let you down, but I will do everything in my power to protect your friends and loved ones still in this city from the war._ Picturing the smiling Reikan and Taiga and hearing their friendly banter in her head, Sayaka felt her resolve harden, and she nodded determinedly. _That's a promise. Miki Sayaka, ally of justice, will protect Fuyuki! No matter who my opponents are or how great the odds against me may be, I'll be ready!_

* * *

 _I was not ready for this._

The thought echoed wryly in Sayaka's mind as she sat down beside Lancer on the stone tiled clearing in the center of the Einzbern Castle's rose garden and looked around. Surrounding her was a square field of knee-high white flowers bisected by four walking paths corresponding to the four cardinal directions. Two concentric compass roses traced in crimson delineated the circular intersection where these paths met, while sturdy stone walls and closed wooden doors marked their terminus. The full moon and uncountable stars shined faintly in the night sky overhead, but the garden was otherwise entirely cut-off from the world and possessed no warmth despite its eloquent beauty. There was only the meticulous care of a master craftsman with no love for his own craft, and the setting uncomfortably reminded Sayaka of the roof garden where she'd traded her soul away for a miracle. That alone would've been sufficient to put her on edge, but when her present company was factored in as well...

"You wished to speak with me, Rider, so speak," Saber spoke sternly from where she sat on her knees a few feet across from the cross-legged King of Conquerors. Unlike the red-haired Macedonian, she remained in her enchanted blue and silver armor and looked ready for battle at a moment's notice as her penetrating green eyes tracked right to left, from her royal counterpart to the Irish spearman to Sayaka herself and then back again, briefly darting to where Waver Velvet stood nervously far behind his servant next to the white roses. "However, if you have come merely to waste my time with wine, be warned that I will answer with more than just words. War is no place for frivolities."

"A war is the perfect place for frivolities!" Rider answered back without missing a beat, an earnest grin on his face as he slapped his left hand against the top of the large wooden cask he'd brought with him into the garden. "Food, sex, sleep, and war...whatever you do, you should always enjoy it to the fullest! Such is the secret of life, and in war the nearness of death compels us to seize and enjoy every moment of life with even greater fervor!"

Saber's green eyes narrowed disapprovingly at these words, and, even though Sayaka wasn't the target of her displeasure, she still felt a nervous lump form in the back of her throat. King Arthur was a childhood hero of hers, and the silent censure of that piercing gaze could almost rival the crushing weight of facing Madoka's quiet disappointment. Rider, though, weathered it without a care, and his happy grin grew larger and became cheeky as he held up his right hand placatingly.

"But yes, I do have business here other than entertaining my fellow heroic spirits with _alcoholic_ spirits—" Sayaka, despite her desire to appear dignified at this gathering, snorted incredulously at the terrible pun, and the lump in her throat dissolved away. "—so there's no need for that sour look, Saber! Honestly, it'd do you some good to let your hair down now and then. This war is a once in a lifetime opportunity for heroes like us to meet, and it'd be a tragedy if those meetings consisted of nothing more than us shouting 'WAAAGH!' and stabbing each other with long pointy objects."

Lancer—who, Sayaka privately thought, continued to look _exceptionally_ handsome in his teal polo shirt and dark gray chinos—shook his head wearily and shot their blithely buoyant ally a warning look.

"The King of Knights has good reason to be cautious, Rider. Her last encounter with Berserker and me did not end well for any of us or our masters, and unscrupulously charging into her castle and then demanding to be entertained is an abuse of the code of hospitality. You should've announced yourself and your intentions before entering."

"Oh? The lightning bolts and the casual clothes weren't enough?" Rider rejoined cheerfully, slapping his chest and the white shirt with the "Admiral Great Tactics" logo emblazoned across it. "Besides, I didn't hear you two complain on the way over here."

Sayaka, smirking playfully, leaned in closer and leveled a fake glare at the large, bear-like servant. "That's because I was screaming my lungs out the entire way over, remember? Between your chariot's thunder and me shouting myself hoarse, you would've been lucky to hear a fireworks show let alone a politely worded protest from the ever well-mannered Lancer next to me. Really, would it have killed you to tell us where we were going before you yelled 'Giddy-up!' and tried to break the _sound barrier_ of all things?"

Hearing this, Rider chuckled and looked up at the sky imploringly. "Backseat drivers. In every age, they're always the same. Why, this one time in Egypt Hephaestion and I went charioteering with—"

" _Ahem_."

At the pointed sound of Saber clearing her throat, Rider had the good grace to finally look abashed. Slightly. Nodding at the King of Knights and holding up his right hand again to ask for a moment, Rider made a fist with his left hand and used it to smash open the lid of the wine barrel beside him. Reaching for the cask's accompanying long-handled ladle, he dipped the wooden spoon into the purple wine and brought it to his mouth, drinking heartily as he sampled the sweet beverage. Then, after refilling the ladle and passing the utensil on to Lancer, he grinned excitedly and held out his arms as if he could embrace the whole universe.

"Let's begin with a review of the facts, shall we?" Rider began as he gazed at each of his fellow servants in turn, his gruff but powerful voice brimming with eagerness. "The Holy Grail is said to be fated for the hands of the one most worthy to possess it, is it not? And the epic battles taking place here in Fuyuki are to determine who exactly that person is, are they not? But—and I've been thinking!—if these battles are simply a means to determine who that person is, then there's hardly a reason for bloodshed." He paused briefly to let the implications of his words sink in as he accepted the ladle back from Lancer, dipped it into the wine barrel again, and reached over to give the large serving spoon to Sayaka. She eyed the plum-colored beverage dubiously at first, but her blue eyes widened appreciatively at the pleasant flavor once she took her first sips.

"To put it simply, if we heroic spirits can agree on our own rankings then the matter will settle itself. We may have been summoned under the seven martial classes of this war, but we do not need to let these roles and expectations define us. We are heroes—all of us!—and heroes defy destiny by their very natures. So, why don't we have a war of words for one night instead of a war of weapons and see where that takes us?" Rider focused the full force of his heterochromatic gaze on the blonde swordswoman across from him and grinned challengingly.

"As the King of Knights and a paragon of chivalry, can you refuse this interesting joust, Saber?"

The green-eyed knight remained as stoic and still as stone as Rider took the ladle back from Sayaka, refilled it, and offered it to her invitingly. Then, suddenly, her expression shifted, becoming competitive, and she reached for the spoon and drank its contents in a single gulp. Rider looked both pleased and impressed as she returned the wooden utensil to him and turned her attention to Lancer and Sayaka.

"And this is acceptable to the two of you as well? This...Grail Dialogue in place of a Grail War?" she questioned intently. Lancer nodded without hesitation.

"Whether it is with speech or with my spears, I would never refuse an opportunity to challenge you, King of Knights. Our every encounter is a distinct honor."

Sayaka, in contrast, grinned wryly and sounded apologetic. "Eh. I'm definitely good with taking a break from the fighting to talk, but I already know where I stand on the totem pole of heroic spirits. And regardless of what's said tonight, I won't give up on the Holy Grail. I made a promise, and my master is counting on me. Still—" An angry frown crossed her youthful features, and Sayaka looked down unhappily, traces of shame on her face. "—miscommunication _kills_. I...I learned that the hard way, and if nothing comes from this other than us understanding and trusting each other more...well, it'll still have been a night well spent."

"Very well spoken, and most assuredly true," Lancer added supportively, placing a reassuring hand on his ally's shoulder. "In a chivalrous battle, nothing is better than truly understanding your opponent and being understood back. That is something all of us can agree on, right?"

Saber opened her mouth to add something to the conversation, but the words were interrupted by a familiar malevolent and mellifluous male voice and the dazzling golden swirl of magic heralding the speaker's arrival.

"I believe that is quite enough nonsense, mongrels," Archer spoke dismissively as he materialized at the far end of the rose garden and gazed down at the other three servants contemptuously. "You dare suggest that I, the one true king, would benefit from knowing my lessers better? I already understand that you are all fools and madmen, and that is more than enough."

Sayaka boggled at Archer's sudden appearance and turned to Rider disbelievingly. "Don't tell me that you actually _invited_ this super jerk too? I'm the one who's supposed to be insane here, not you!"

Rider shrugged unconcernedly and took another sip of the wine. "I saw him in town earlier and thought I might as well. After all, the words of a king are for all to hear, are they not? And it would've been rude to invite all of you but leave him out. This is a banquet of heroes, not a 'Banquet of the Heroes Who Defeated Caster Plus Saber Because She Has a Castle I Might Pillage Later.'"

"Try, and you'll find a sword in your stomach for your troubles, Rider," Saber warned frostily, green gaze split between the distant golden king and the nonchalant burly conqueror sitting across from her. The latter chuckled, amused by the threat, and beckoned the former over.

"Come and join us, Goldie. You're a little late, but that's only to be expected since you travel by foot unlike myself."

Harrumphing disdainfully, Archer approached the gathering and joined them within the confines of the first compass rose, transforming their loose triangle into a rough diamond and giving Sayaka her first glimpse of the Servant of the Bow since the confrontation at the docks three nights ago. His scornful crimson eyes and imperious features remained unchanged and were fixed in the same disapproving scowl Sayaka had last seen on his face, but, like Rider, Lancer, and herself, the blond king had swapped out his auric armor for more modern attire. Clothed in black pants, a white undershirt, and a black leather jacket with white trim, the slender servant could be mistaken for a rich foreigner at a distance. Any closer, though, and his inhuman elegance became impossible to overlook, and, despite knowing what to expect, Sayaka still felt an apprehensive shiver slither down her spine at the menacing sense of _power_ that casually surrounded Archer.

"Mongrel, you actually chose to hold a banquet of heroes in a depressing place like this?" Archer questioned angrily, his red eyes narrowing unhappily as they focused on Rider. "I only deigned to participate in this foolishness because you obeyed my earlier command to thin your ranks, but this is an insult. How will you recompense me for the rudeness of calling me here and bringing into my presence two banal curs of even lowlier status than yourself?"

Lancer frowned at the insult but remained silent, knowing there would be other and better opportunities to respond. Sayaka was less far-sighted and bristled at Archer's arrogant words, glaring and opening her mouth to vocalize the angry retort on the tip of her tongue. Rider was faster, though, speaking first in a calm and untroubled tone.

"Eh, why don't you just relax, Goldie? The Holy Grail itself chose all of us to compete in this war, binding our names and legends together whether we like it or not, so we might as well make the most of it. Here, why don't you have a little drink?"

Beaming cheerfully, Rider filled the wooden ladle with wine and offered it to Archer. The golden king looked down at the purple drink disdainfully but begrudgingly took a sip. The displeased scowl that formed on his regal features made his judgment clear even before he spoke and roughly returned the long-handled spoon to Rider.

" _Disgusting_. You really thought we could discern a hierarchy of heroic spirits with inferior swill like this?"

Rider frowned and sounded genuinely unhappy for the first time that night. "You don't like it? This cask was among the very best I could find among the city marketplace this afternoon."

Archer's scowl deepened as he glared down at the King of Conquerors contemptuously. "You are pitifully ignorant of true drink. Of _course_ you believe that. Stupid mongrel."

With an ennuied sigh, Archer raised his right hand and opened a golden portal above it. Remembering what had happened at the docks, Saber, Lancer, and Sayaka all tensed, ready to defend themselves if the Servant of the Bow summoned weapons, but Archer didn't even acknowledge them as he rotated his hand so that the open palm faced downward. The glowing disc quickly followed, and a magnificent golden jug descended out of the portal. It landed on the tiled ground with a metallic clang as Archer repeated the action with his left hand and summoned five matching golden cups. He dismissively tossed the goblets to Rider as the portals closed.

"Now behold, and acknowledge your folly," Archer proclaimed arrogantly as he joined them on the ground, crossing his legs as he sat. " _This_ is the beverage of a true king."

Rider smiled gamely, eager to try the new drink. "It's a fine treasure indeed," he concurred as he lifted the golden container and poured its crimson contents into the cups. Saber and Sayaka looked less pleased, put-off by Archer's unbounded haughtiness, but they each accepted the wine when Rider passed it out. Lancer did as well, nodding his head politely but coolly at Archer by way of thanks.

"To interesting times and even more interesting company!" Rider shouted, raising his cup in a toast before bringing it to his mouth and enthusiastically sampling the wine. Saber and Lancer mirrored his actions while Sayaka, still annoyed at Archer, attempted to down the entire drink in a single swig. She succeeded but nearly collapsed a second later in a drunken mess as the rich beverage's feverishly sweet intoxication utterly overwhelmed her undeveloped alcohol tolerance. She retained just enough sense to plant a hand on the ground, which stopped her from tipping over and bought enough time for her restoration magic to cleanse the inebriation from her mind. Feeling a headache rapidly come and go, she made a mental note to drink in moderation from now on. Killing her master by draining him dry of mana so that she could stay sober would be an absolutely mortifying end.

"Consider that a lesson," Archer spoke, his voice rich with sadistic amusement as he watched her struggle. "Children should cherish the gifts they are given instead of wasting them in a moment's pique." Taking a slow sip from his own cup and permitting himself time to enjoy the wine's splendid flavor, the golden king shifted his imperious gaze to take in everyone else.

"My treasury houses only the very finest of drinks and the finest of swords. This alone should indicate which among us is the greatest of heroes."

Rider chuckled good-naturedly at the boast and drank more wine while Saber frowned irritably, her lips thinning. Lancer, though, set down his own wine cup and shook his head in disagreement.

"The wealthiest of heroes, perhaps, but there is more to greatness than material possessions, Archer. A man should never be judged by the extent of his riches alone. A pious pauper can be worthier of praise and honor than an impious king."

"True!" Rider agreed even more boisterously than usual as he happily poured himself more wine. "But it is also true that we should give credit where credit is due. Archer's finest drink is _indeed_ worthy of the finest vessel in all of history, and if the Holy Grail was merely a drinking cup this discussion would be over." The giant Macedonian's tone grew serious as he shifted his gaze from Lancer to Archer. "But it goes practically without saying that the Holy Grail is far more than a mere drinking cup. First, we must hear what wish you would have the Grail grant should you win it. The wish is, after all, what gives the Grail its purpose."

Archer scoffed before taking another sip from his own cup. "Your words, mongrel, only display your true ignorance. I have no need to make a wish upon the Grail because the Grail already belongs to me. All this world's treasures, without exception, trace their origin to my treasure house."

Sayaka rolled her eyes at this declaration and butted in with a singsong voice. "Unless you filed a patent it doesn't count. This is the twenty-fi—the twentieth century, and things don't work that way anymore, if they ever did. Besides," she added, tone switching from mockingly lyrical to pure snark, "I'm sure the Church overseeing this war would ardently dispute your claim of ownership. It is a _Holy_ Grail, after all."

"What the Church or anyone else believes is false if it is not in accord with my truths," Archer answered arrogantly. "Do not consider me as you would a lesser being, little girl. If the Holy Grail is a treasure then it belongs to me, and anyone who would take it for themselves is naught but a filthy scoundrel and a dirty thief. That is my decree, and as king my decrees become absolute reality."

Now it was Saber's turn to scoff as she regarded Archer skeptically. "It appears the Holy Grail summoned more than one maddened servant for this war. Your words are no different than the late Caster's senseless and insane rants, Archer, and only the particular nature of your delusion sets you apart."

Surprisingly, considering Archer's indifference to what anyone else had said of him that night, Saber's words appeared to actually anger him, and his lips curled downwards in a dangerous frown. Rider, though, once again played peacemaker as he leaned over towards both of them in turn and, chuckling heartily, refilled their golden cups with more of Archer's wine.

"Come, come, let's not go that far, Saber. Gilles de Rais was a madman without compare, and if Goldie is who I think he is then there might even be some truth to his claims. And if he is speaking the truth...then, Archer, are you suggesting that if we desire the Grail then we must first get your permission?"

The faintest hint of satisfaction at this insight crossed Archer's regal features as he nodded. "Indeed. It appears that you are not quite as ignorant as the other mongrels, Rider, but my answer will still be no. There is no reason whatsoever for me to reward lowly curs of this gathering's ignoble ilk. My magnanimity is limited to my vassals and to my loyal subjects."

Lancer's orange eyes narrowed coldly at these words, his code of honor taking offense at the unspoken insinuation that he should forswear his master and pledge himself to the golden servant in exchange for a better chance at the Holy Grail.

"That puts us at an unbridgeable impasse," the Irish knight spoke sternly, his tone uncompromising. "I have already sworn myself to one lord and will not betray my oaths by swearing fealty to another, and you dishonor your fellow kings by suggesting that they should submit themselves to you when you haven't even identified yourself, let alone shown yourself worthy of their loyalty through your conduct."

Rider guffawed loudly and nodded his head, his cheeks slightly flushed from the wine but his eyes still alert and brimming with deep thoughts.

"I agree with Lancer's words. The first part, anyway. Bowing to another is totally out of the question. Sorry, Goldie, but I have my pride as the King of Conquerors. Still...tell me, you don't have any special interest in the Holy Grail itself, do you?"

Archer smirked cruelly. "Of course not. But I must render my judgment upon those who would dare to steal treasure from me. More than your pride, it's a matter of principle based on the law I set down as the rightful king."

"Perfect!" Rider enthused, slamming the pommel of his cup against the stone tiles for emphasis. "Living by one's own law is the epitome of kingship. But, be that as it may, I still desire the Holy Grail so badly I can almost taste it, and it's always been my style to just take what I want. No hard feelings, eh, Goldie?"

"Irrelevant," Archer retorted with a trace of what actually sounded like good humor in his tone. Sayaka did a double-take, disbelieving. "You break the law, and I will punish you. There is no place for discussion."

"Mhm. Then, as with you and Lancer, there's nothing left to us but to meet on the field of battle. Until then, would you still like us to help you finish this off tonight?" Smiling pleasantly, Rider held up the golden wine jar. "There'll be plenty of time for us to kill each other afterwards."

Archer nodded, grinning as if Rider had just said something hilarious. "That should go without saying. Wasting the superior drink I did the honor of providing you with would be a grave insult, Rider. Cherish it, for few are blessed enough to receive my largesse, and I doubt you will ever receive such a high honor again."

Smiling cryptically, Sayaka thought of her best friend and their future reunion when this war ended and shook her head. "Super uh-uh on that one, Archer. I'll admit that maybe you do have the best bling, but there are things far more valuable than your shiny handouts and that you actually believe otherwise just shows how little you know."

"I know enough, little girl," Archer retorted harshly, more condescending than angry. "I am a king who has tasted all the pleasures and luxuries the world has to offer. I have known the most sublime joys and the most heartrending sorrows. And if you knew and understood— _truly_ understood—who I am, you would apologize a thousand times over for your ignorant words."

"And yet you refuse to name yourself," Lancer reprimanded again, his sharp eyes watching the golden king intently. "You claim that we are fools not to recognize you, but you treat us with discourtesy unbefitting a heroic spirit by maintaining your silence when we have all shared our identities with one another. If you are truly a hero worthy of the praise and awe you claim to be your right then I will offer what apologies are appropriate, but until your name is known you are entitled to no more respect from me than I would give to any anonymous heroic spirit. Less, even, since you do not abide by the chivalric code of knights despite being summoned in one of the three knight classes. You dishonor yourself and your legend, whatever it might be, Archer."

Again, Rider laughed and shook his head, and then he reached over and clapped a hand on Lancer's right shoulder. "Courageous and foolhardy in equal measure, my friend! But let's not be so hard on Archer. Goldie is entitled to keep his secrets, just as all of us are entitled to keep ours should we wish." Rider's eyes became uncannily perceptive for a moment as he swept his gaze across Lancer, Sayaka, and Saber, but then his good humor returned as he refilled their cups and leaned back. "Besides, we know his principles and what he fights for, and, for now, those are more important than any name. So, what about you, Lancer? What wish would you have the Grail grant?"

Lancer met Rider's sharp, inquisitive gaze with his unflinching orange eyes and answered levelly. "The resurrection of my sworn lord, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. I failed to protect him, but, so long as there is even a slim chance to return him to life, I am honor-bound as a knight to do everything in my power to make that slim possibility a reality."

Rider frowned slightly, seemingly disappointed by these words, but otherwise his expression barely changed. His young master, on the other hand, reacted far more conspicuously once the meaning of Lancer's declaration sank in.

"Professor Archibald's dead?!" Waver exclaimed incredulously, his face turning pale as he rushed over to the gathering. "What—I mean, how—I..." Alarmed gaze fixed on Lancer, the raven-haired apprentice mage took a deep breath and awkwardly collected himself. "What...what happened?"

Saber answered before Lancer could, her tone solemn, and Waver's distressed dark green eyes turned to her.

"Lancer's lord and my master disgraced themselves and us by choosing to disregard the overseer's ceasefire so that they could continue their own private hostilities," she stated disapprovingly. "They fought, and they both reaped the foul consequences of their dishonorable conduct, albeit Lord El-Melloi more so than Emiya." Nodding once at the Irish knight, Saber bowed apologetically.

"For the second time, I am sorry I was not able to give you the honorable duel you deserve, Lancer. Any knight would envy the bravery and skill with which you fought, and, although I wish the circumstances were different, I am glad that we may yet have a third opportunity to meet in combat." Suddenly, the blonde swordswoman smiled challengingly and held up her left hand. "After all, I still need to demonstrate that this tiny scratch isn't something you need worry about. With or without it, my sword shall strike true."

Lancer's dark mood lightened at this, and he grinned back at her sportively. "Not if my spears strike first, Saber. I look forward to putting your boast to the test."

 _My ship's saaaaailing_ , Sayaka thought playfully, barely resisting the urge to loudly suggest that Saber and Lancer get a room. She suspected the two knights wouldn't appreciate being teased like that or having chivalry be mistaken for romance...but still, it was _tempting_.

 _Bite your tongue, girl! Snark is Kyouko's thing, not yours, and you want to make a_ _ **good**_ _impression. You can squeal like a fangirl later, but for now focus!_

In contrast to Sayaka, Rider was not smiling. Instead, as the Servant of Madness resisted an entirely different and far more insidious form of insanity, the broad Macedonian spoke in hushed whispers to his disconcerted master, offering him words of wisdom. Shortly, Waver nodded his head and slowly, still appearing partly dazed, made his way back to the edge of the clearing near the white roses. Rider spared the young magus a quick backward glance and then promptly returned his attention to the conversation that had continued without him.

"Yes, yes. Saving your master's life is indeed a worthy cause, and I understand that you feel such is your duty," Rider spoke impatiently, sounding slightly disgruntled. "However, if your master was _not_ dead, what would your wish be? Kayneth died after you were summoned, so what original desire persuaded you to answer the Grail's call to take up arms in this war?"

Lancer answered promptly and with conviction, absolute certainty in his words. "My only desire, King of Conquerors, is to serve a lord faithfully from beginning to end in accordance with the tenets of knighthood. I was denied such an honor when I walked the earth as a man, but this brief second life will be a sufficient miracle for me if it lets me accomplish that. You, a king who dreams of subjugating the whole world, might not understand, but I _chose_ the life and path of a knight, and my only wish is to see this choice of mine through successfully to its end."

Briefly, Rider's dissatisfied frown lengthened, but then he shrugged his massive shoulders and regarded the Servant of the Spear thoughtfully. "I'd say you dream too small, Lancer, but by the same token you'd probably say I dream too big. Ha! Very well! If that is truly all you wish for, then I applaud your determination to fight for what you desire no matter what obstacles and hardships stand in your way. A man who knows his dream and strives for it is to be commended! Isn't that right, Goldie?"

"A mongrel is a mongrel, and if he steals from me then he will suffer the rightful consequences of his folly," Archer reiterated flatly, unimpressed. "Everything else, including the mongrel's plebeian dreams, are irrelevant...although, if such inconsequential aspirations help him die with composure, then I suppose his convictions might have a _little_ value." The corners of his lips curled upwards in a cruel smirk as Archer looked down at and contentedly swirled his crimson wine. His grin widened further a moment later when he sensed Saber's baleful gaze on him, and he mockingly tipped his head to her. The blonde swordswoman's glare hardened at this belittlement, but, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one, she turned away and zeroed in on Rider instead.

"And what of you, King of Conquerors? A minute ago you agreed that the Grail's rightful ownership lies with another and not yourself, and yet you would just take it by force? That is not how a king should act, so what...what makes the Grail so important to you?"

Rider's cheeks flushed at the question, and he looked uncharacteristically sheepish as he reached for his wine cup and took a long drink, thinking on his answer. When he finally spoke, it was one word that surprised everyone.

"Reincarnation."

Waver sighed exasperatedly at this announcement but, still numb and busy sorting out his thoughts about Kayneth's death, remained where he stood next to the flower garden. The other listeners were more extreme in their reactions, and Archer's golden eyes narrowed dangerously in displeasure.

"Mongrel, you would dare challenge me for my treasure over something so _trivial_?" the golden king barked, his tone rising into something precariously close to anger. Rider met this outrage with élan and, lifting his hands peaceably, laughed heartily as he shook his head.

"Goldie, give me some credit. _Of course_ I dream bigger dreams than seeking only reincarnation. You have your supreme law, and I have my boundless ambition to conquer the world! However, achieving dominion over the whole earth through an omnipotent wish-granting device would render the conquest utterly meaningless. It would be victory through the Grail's magic rather than through my own blood, sweat, and tears, and that type of victory doesn't even deserve the name 'victory'. So, the wish I would ask of the Holy Grail is merely to free me to take the first step towards my goal. As we are now, even with the Grail's magic lending us form and giving us power, we are ultimately nothing more than servants."

Rider raised his right hand in front of his face and clenched it in emphasis as he looked at each of his fellow servants long and hard. "Do any of you honestly think the King of Conquerors could be satisfied with a body like this? A fake form, conjured into being by magic, that'll fade away at the end of the war? No, I wish to live as true flesh and blood again within this new world in which I find myself, and with nothing but my body of flesh and blood I shall defy both heaven and earth and make the whole world mine! Succeeding in that endeavor is the true meaning of conquest and is the path I choose to follow, from beginning to end. Thus it begins, then proceeds onward, and is finally finished."

By the time Rider concluded, the displeasure in Archer's crimson eyes had faded and he seemed to be watching the red-haired king with what might've been a trace of approval. Saber's expression was more critical; to her, the desire for domination over all the peoples and lands of the world was foreign and ran counter to her own ideals, and the frown on her face reflected that. Lancer, in contrast, looked impressed and had tipped his wine cup in a partial salute. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sayaka unexpectedly cut him off with a loud guffaw, her own reaction to Rider's words being one of mirth.

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to offend," she apologized between sweet-sounding giggles, "but— _honestly,_ Rider!—you sounded like a supervillain straight out of TV, and I couldn't help but picture your quest for world domination running afoul of some meddling kids and their animal sidekick. Trust me, that's how it always works out in stories these days."

Rather than be insulted, Rider threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"If that's the case," he rejoined, watching Sayaka with a huge smile, "then I'll just have to co-opt 'those meddling kids' into my army! The more the merrier, and I can have stables built to house their animal companions too! Besides, the roles of hero and villain in a story depend on whose perspective the story is told from. I have played both and many other parts in the retellings of my life, and so long as my legend continues to inspire the hearts of men I could care less about how the stories are told or what they say about me."

This statement immediately caught Lancer's attention, and he turned to Rider inquisitively, his orange eyes melancholic. "You don't care if the bards impugn your motives and smear your reputation? Our names and legends are the only parts of us that truly survive after our passing, and the stain of adultery forever attached to mine is a black mark I could do without."

The ancient Macedonian king glanced shrewdly at Lancer, but it was Saber who answered, her voice heavy and haunted.

"The only judges of our lives that matter are ourselves. What we accomplished, who we failed, why we fought...history will never record these truths in their entirety and may even fabricate lies as the years and centuries pass, but, although I disagree with Rider on many things, he is right in this. In the end, what matters is whether you are satisfied with the life you lived and not what others say."

Sayaka quickly nodded in agreement. Her best friend had helped her come to a similar realization not that long ago, and if she could do something to assuage Lancer's regrets about his own life she would. At the same time, though, she felt uneasy. There was something about the way Saber had spoken that left Sayaka with the sense that there was an additional meaning to her words but, although it seemed important, she couldn't decipher it.

 _I'd ask where's Kyubey when you need him, but bringing him anywhere_ _ **near**_ _a Holy Grail War is such a terrible idea it makes my plan in one timeline to test my healing factor by binging on puffer fish look absolutely brilliant in comparison. Gods, that was an embarrassing night._

She winced slightly at that memory. Her magic could heal injuries that would leave most people bedridden for weeks in seconds and had been more than up to the task, and, strictly speaking, nothing _bad_ had happened. However, she'd still been riding high on her first few victories as a magical girl at the time, and the thrill of eating poison fish had only added to that soaring euphoria. Throw in a desire to show off in front of and impress Madoka, and...well, she _might_ have gone overboard in her theatrics. Significantly overboard. Significantly, if Madoka wasn't such a good friend and awesome person she'd lord this over me for the rest of my life, overboard.

 _I was stupid...so stupid_ , the magical girl thought remorsefully before forcibly refocusing her thoughts on the present. Silence had followed Saber's words, and she knew how to break it.

"I guess it's my turn now," she began, grinning anxiously despite her desire to put on a brave front. Everyone's eyes turned to her as she put down her wine cup and placed her right index finger thoughtfully on her chin, tapping it as she considered and chose her words.

"Well, I might as well start with the disclaimer first. Much like Lancer, my first priority is helping my master. I can't say too much about what he's fighting for due to 'family secrets' and 'reasons'—" Sayaka made air quotes with her hands and rolled her blue eyes sardonically to demonstrate her own feelings about those reasons. "—but the short and heavily sanitized version is that the next Matou heir is a child who was adopted into the family and is being put through hell to inherit the Matou's magic crest. My master wants to save her from that terrible fate, and if he wins the Holy Grail the girl will be released and returned to her mother. I promised to help him, and I'd be a sorry excuse for a hero if I abandoned a young maiden in distress. So—sorry, not sorry—that's why I'm willing to fight all of you and knock you senseless."

"Heh, well, people have tried to kill me for far worse reasons, so no offense taken," Rider reassured, chuckling. "However, I think you know by now what I truly want to hear. If you were to win the Holy Grail and make a wish for yourself, what would it be?"

Sayaka's expression turned wistful as she answered. "...I've had time to think about this, and, if my master and I win the Holy Grail, if I'm able to use it to make a wish of my own...I'd wish for time to say good-bye to my family and friends." Smiling sadly as she thought of those she'd left behind, she looked each member of her audience in the eye and gathered her courage to continue.

"Now, don't get me wrong. I don't regret my life. There are things I'd do differently and some _super_ stupid mistakes I'd change, if possible, but I also made a friend's dream come true and gave something beautiful a second chance to be heard. That...it was worth it, all of it. What I _do_ regret, though, is never saying farewell to my loved ones before it was too late. I died young, and my parents...my best friends, they don't know why or how. They don't even know that I was a hero, and now that I'm dead...they'll never know, and that—the not knowing—is a cruelty I'd like to spare them from. My wish and the reasons for it may be selfish and insignificant compared to everyone else's motives in this war, but if I win...that's the wish I'll make. To give my loved ones closure."

Saber nodded her head sympathetically at this, and the puella magi was struck by the feeling that there must've been people in King Arthur's life who she would've liked to say more to before her death too. Lancer also inclined his head supportively, and Sayaka released a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized just how worried she'd been that her new friend might disapprove of her wish until now. Rider, for his part, watched her contemplatively and without judgement, but Archer...his reaction was as bad as she'd thought it would be, but that still didn't make his words any easier to bear.

"Your wish suits you, little girl," Archer remarked, simultaneously sincere and mocking. "A childish wish for a child seeking to lessen her own guilt. You could've easily saved yourself this trouble had you been honest with your friends and family. If you truly cared about them and they you, they deserved to hear the truth before you threw your life away."

"It wasn't that _simple_ ," Sayaka hissed back angrily, clenching her teeth in frustration because, despite her protests, she knew Archer was right. Even with Kyubey's exhortations for secrecy, she still could've prepared a last message for her parents, Hitomi, and Kyousuke. Something simple and heartfelt that didn't mention magic at all, just a few posthumous words to let them know she cared and loved them and that they shouldn't blame themselves if something happened to her. It wouldn't have been hard, but she'd never bothered, at first because she'd felt invincible and later because she'd barely felt _anything_ at all, and now it was too late. However, if the Holy Grail could change that by giving her a second chance to say good-bye...well, rescuing Sakura was still her primary goal, but eliminating one of her last regrets would be a nice bonus to cap this adventure off with.

As she thought this and glowered at Archer, Rider, playing peacemaker again, came to her defense.

"Simple or not, the wish and the reasons are what they are, and I won't fault someone for being selfish. To the contrary, I encourage it!" Raising his golden goblet in salute, Rider brought it to his lips and quickly drained it dry. He then reached for the wine jug to refill his cup while simultaneously turning to Saber with an eager grin.

"But now, I believe it is the host's turn to speak," he proclaimed cheerfully, his piercing eyes expectant. "Come, King of Knights. Let us hear what you would ask of the Grail should you win it."

Saber looked up solemnly to meet the Macedonian king's inquisitive gaze, but her own green eyes were distant and her thoughts far away, focused on sights and events known only to her. Then, slowly setting her wine cup down on the tiled ground, she returned to the present and regarded each of her fellow servants in turn, judging them with what she'd learned tonight just as she knew they would soon judge her. Finally, her powerful voice resolute but sad, she answered.

"I would wish for my homeland's salvation. With the omnipotent wish-granting device known as the Holy Grail, I shall avert Britain's fate of destruction."

Lancer's orange eyes widened sharply in surprise at this audacious wish before, just as quickly, narrowing again and becoming shrewd and appraising. Archer's reaction was milder but far more unsettling as he sat and smiled cruelly, intrigued. Rider, in contrast, was frowning as he placed his full and untouched wine cup down on the ground and watched Saber uncertainly, as if he had just caught a glimpse of something he didn't want to see and wasn't sure was actually there. Sayaka had gone a step further and was openly gaping at the King of Knights, her blue eyes as open as they could be and filled with alarm. She _knew_ what wishing to change the past could do, and, as memories of dozens of different fates—some mundane, a few heroic, many tragic, but all undone—flitted through her mind, she silently hoped that this was all just a misunderstanding. Rider's mind seemed to move in a similar direction, and he called out to Saber, seeking clarification.

"Hey, King of Knights...did you just say that you would change fate? Meaning, that you wish to change events long since past?"

Saber nodded, appearing puzzled as to why he seemed troubled by this. "Indeed. Even if it is a wish that a miracle alone cannot fulfill, if the Holy Grail is truly omnipotent as we have been told, then surely—"

Archer's mocking laughter interrupted her, and Saber's green eyes narrowed irritably as she glanced at the amused golden king. Rider's deep voice drew Saber's attention back to him, though, as he spoke over Archer's derisive merriment in a tone that had become even more concerned.

"Saber," Rider spoke slowly, drawing his words out so that there could be no confusion. "Just so I'm clear on this, it was back during your time that this country you call 'Britain' was conquered and fell? When it was under your rule?"

Again, Saber nodded and regarded the King of Conquerors in confusion, wondering where he was going with this. Sayaka had also turned her head to watch Rider and was wondering the same thing. She'd initially thought that he was, like her, uneasy about the potential consequences of altering the past, but it now sounded like he was getting at something else.

"That is correct," Saber affirmed, grief infusing her voice as she continued intently. "And that is why I cannot allow it and why I regret it. That is why I want to alter that outcome!" Raising her gauntleted right hand to her heart in memory, the King of Knights looked down mournfully. "For it was I and none other who was to blame."

Archer laughed even more loudly at this, and this time Saber refused to ignore him. Eyes cold and words colder, she addressed him directly.

"What is so amusing, Archer?"

Grinning with barely suppressed amusement, Archer gestured at her as if the answer was self-explanatory and then shook his head disbelievingly.

"You call yourself a king and are praised by all as such, and yet you feel 'regret'? How can I _not_ laugh? It's such nonsense!"

This time, Lancer also refused to ignore Archer's disrespect and he scowled, eyeing the golden servant with disdain. "The King of Knights' earlier comparison between you and Caster might not have been that far off the mark. Only a sociopath does not feel regret."

"Hahaha! Ignorant mongrel, your drivel only adds to this folly!" Archer retorted, his head tilted back as he laughed uproariously. "Regrets are for fools; the truly wise feel remorse."

"Archer is right," Rider concurred, frowning deeply as he watched Saber worriedly. "Remorse lets you grieve, learn, and move on, but regret? Regretting the past is like carrying water to the sea. It accomplishes _nothing_!"

"Unless you happen to have a super magical, wish granting holy cup on standby," Sayaka muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear. With their attention back on her, she fought the urge to blanch and turned to look at the slightly shorter Saber, her blue eyes concerned and seeking.

"Saber...when you say you want to 'alter that outcome,' what exactly do you mean? Most people who want to change the past—" _Not that_ _ **I'm**_ _an expert on this subject or anything_ , she thought sarcastically. "—usually have something specific in mind they want to change."

Saber looked at Sayaka uncertainly for a moment, trying to read her, before giving her answer.

"I devoted my whole life to my beloved country, but it wasn't enough. I failed Britain as her king, so all I can do now—what I _must_ do now—is wish for a worthier person to draw Caliburn from the stone of appointment and rule in my place. Only then will Britain be saved."

Even before Saber finished, Rider was gaping at her, appalled. "You would erase the marks that you yourself have left on history?!"

This outburst immediately earned the King of Conquerors a stern rebuke from Lancer. "It is Saber's right, even her duty, to do such, Rider. A knight serves his lord, and a lord serves his people. If a knight fails to protect his lord or a lord his people, they are honor-bound to make amends. As the King of Knights and the lord of the British, Saber is doubly obligated to do whatever she can for her kingdom."

Archer was now laughing so vigorously that he was actually hard-pressed to maintain his dignity. Clutching his stomach, the golden servant gazed at Saber and Lancer with amused pity.

"Rider, are you _listening_ to this utter nonsense?" he asked between guffaws. "These two speak as though kings are nothing more than slaves!"

"Kings are martyrs to their ideals, Archer!" Saber argued back, equal parts angry and passionate. "Just as you are prepared to fight and die for your ideal of 'law', however capricious and arbitrary it may be, I devote myself to the oaths I swore as king to protect Britain and her people! And if I must sacrifice myself to fulfill those oaths, then I will happily do so."

Rider shook his head sharply in disagreement, a pained grimace on his face. "You have already sacrificed yourself and don't even realize it, Saber. You have spent your whole life enraptured by a false idol of the humble king who always serves others, but that is not how a person should live, let alone how a king should live! A king must be greedier than any other. He must laugh more loudly and rage for much longer and embody the very extreme of all things, good and evil! That is why the king's retainers envy his existence and adore him, and that is why the flames of aspiration—to be just as the king is!—can burn within his people. The path of the martyr you devoted yourself to, though...forever sacrificing yourself and all that you can be for the good of others...who actually dreams of such a life?"

Sayaka instantly bristled at this, thinking of Madoka and all that she owed her and knowing that she could not _not_ defend her friend's choice to sacrifice herself just as Rider had described.

"My best friend, for one!" she interjected loudly, surprising both herself and Rider with the vehemence in her voice. Coughing sheepishly, she dialed her tone down a notch as she elaborated. "She...it's a complicated story, but the 'too long; didn't read; here's a summary' version is that there was...I suppose you could call it a 'fairy' who offered my friend and me a wish each in exchange for magical powers that we'd use to fight monsters. I signed up without reading the fine print, which was super stupid on my part 'cause it turned out the monsters we fought were actually the fairy's _other_ contractees. The bastard conveniently omitted in its sales pitch the part where you go insane and transform into a nightmarish abomination once the magic runs out."

Sayaka's face momentarily became haunted as she remembered her time as the mermaid witch, Oktavia von Seckendorff, but her expression quickly turned warm and grateful as she continued talking about Madoka. "My friend, though...she was selfless _and_ smart. She was special too, in ways I can't even begin to describe. When she saw what happened to me and learned the truth about the fairy's contract and all the young girl's he'd tricked, she wished to erase all the monsters we would become, past and future, with her own hands."

The derision on Archer's face that Sayaka had begun to suspect was a permanent feature vanished once she finished her explanation, and a surprising—almost disturbing—insightfulness took its place. He looked at her intently, as if truly seeing her for the first time, but Sayaka instinctively understood that it wasn't her he saw and that his gaze was set on someone much farther away.

"A wish like that," the golden king mused out loud, his voice soft and respectful, "would consign your friend to an endless cycle of struggle. She'd become an ouroboros, eternal, devouring and renewing herself forever as she saves you and all like you, including herself. An existence like that, however...cannot remain in this world and live as a human being."

Sayaka fought the urge to shy away from Archer's penetrating scrutiny, finding herself more unsettled by his new and unexpected courteousness than she had been annoyed by his arrogance earlier.

"...Yes, that's right," she affirmed cautiously, not liking the approval she saw in Archer's crimson eyes. "The paradox of erasing herself also erased my friend from history and transformed her into something else. Even though she was my best friend...I only remembered her and everything she did for me after I died." Nearly choking on emotion, Sayaka turned to Rider and glared, daring him to find fault and warning him that there would be consequences if he did.

"There may be those who say that hers is a terrible fate, striving forever and neither known nor remembered by anyone still alive, but it is what my friend wanted. She chose to become a martyr for me—for all of us!—of her own volition, and saving us is what makes her happy. It was her choice, her wish, and I'll fight _anyone_ who dares insult her by saying that wish was stupid or a mistake! To me and everyone like me, it means _everything_!"

Breathless, the magical girl paused and looked around. Archer was no longer watching her and had returned to gazing into the depths of his wine cup, his thoughts known only to himself. Rider was quiet but seemed amused, as if her passionate outburst had pleased him somehow. Lancer's countenance was thoughtful and approving, and Sayaka sensed that defending her friend's selflessness to the King of Conquerors had further gained his respect. That only left Saber, and the King of Knights was smiling sadly, understanding perhaps even better than Sayaka did what Madoka's sacrifice had cost her even as she agreed with it. There were similarities between Madoka and Saber's wishes, Sayaka knew, and their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others was the same...but there was also one very important, _key_ difference between what Madoka did and what Saber wanted to do, and that difference offended Sayaka to the core of her being.

"Saber," Sayaka called out, shifting to watch the King of Knights and hoping the blonde swordswoman would prove her new assumptions about her wrong. "There is nothing shameful about the path of a martyr so long as you're doing it for the right reasons. People who fight and sacrifice themselves for the sake of others...that is the heroism I idealized growing up. I loved stories about knights and samurai and other noble warriors standing up to evil to make the world a better place. However, your wish...if you never draw the sword from the stone, what'll happen to your knights? King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table...the two are famous the world over and practically inseparable, but _without_ you..."

Saber stared at Sayaka uncomprehendingly as the young girl trailed off, not understanding her point. "My knights swore themselves to the kingdom. If I must sacrifice myself to save the kingdom, even if it undoes their oaths and services to me, they would understand."

Sayaka's eyes widened in shock bordering on anger, and she gaped. "That's—!"

"That's an insufferable insult to all those who fought and bled and died alongside you!" Rider roared, everything about him emphatic as he glared at his fellow king. "You would sacrifice their loyalty and devotion to you, erase their accomplishments and everything they did for you, and eradicate all the time they shared with you...for what?! To ease your own regrets and quiet your guilty conscience? What type of retainer could possibly be okay with that?!"

"You couldn't possibly understand, Rider!" Saber retorted indignantly. "You, who seek the Grail merely for your own benefit and who became a ruler only to satisfy your endless greed!"

Sayaka shook her head, a troubled expression on her face as she confronted one of her childhood heroes and rebuked her. "I'm not a ruler, and, while I won't say no to the perks if I win, I'm not seeking the Grail for my own benefit either...but I also don't understand! My friend...she could've saved my life and prevented me from ever contracting when she made her wish, but she respected my choice to trade my life for a miracle. That was my decision, and, even knowing what I do now, I wouldn't undo it, and I'd be pissed as all hell if someone took that decision away from me! It was my life and my choice what to do with it, but you...you would deny your knights the same choice!"

"My knights fought for Britain, and—"

"And that's the only thing you think they fought for?! That they cared about?!" Sayaka fired back hotly, incredulous. "Gods, Saber, weren't they your friends? How can you possibly not care what your wish would do to them?"

"That's because they weren't her friends," Rider answered sadly. "She set herself apart and surrounded herself with her ideals of righteousness and chivalry instead of people. When her knights couldn't keep to the same high standards and lost their way, she abandoned them and let them go rather than weep and rage after them to bring them back, as a true friend should. Then, alone and untroubled, she followed her pretty little ideals to their inevitable tragic end."

"If I rule a nation as king, as a _true_ king, then I cannot expect to live as a human being," Saber responded resolutely, her green eyes unwavering as they challenged Rider's accusing stare. "I knew and accepted that when I decided to draw the sword from the stone, and my knights knew that when they swore their oaths to me. What we may have desired as human beings is secondary to our oaths, and those oaths compel me to save my kingdom! You say I insult them, Rider, and perhaps I do, but anything else would be a betrayal of what we stood for!"

Archer erupted in laughter again, and Saber looked at him angrily. He waved her crossness off dismissively and smiled cruelly.

"Don't pay the words of these base mongrels any heed, Saber. Follow the path you believe in. Your agonizing pain and terrible sorrow as you bear a burden of kingship that is too heavy a weight for any is quite a marvelous and splendid thing to look upon. It reminds me of the anguish on the faces of the virgins who showered me with flower petals in my bed. Why, I might even say that you're a woman after my own heart."

Sayaka froze, her disagreement with the now sputtering Saber forgotten in her shared outrage at what had just been said and its implications. Growling atavistically and hearing both the roar of the ocean and the whirring of spinning wheels in her mind, the magical girl applied all of her tenuous self-control to the task of _not_ lunging at Archer and wringing his neck. Fortunately, Lancer quickly placed a calming hand on her right shoulder, anchoring her, before turning to address Rider.

"I think this banquet has reached its conclusion, Rider. Its purpose has been accomplished, and, even if we don't all agree with one another, we at least all know why we each fight for the Holy Grail. Drawing the banquet out further will only ensure that the night ends in unpleasantries, and we have already abused the tenets of hospitality enough without further imposing ourselves on our host."

"I suppose now is as a good a time to adjourn as any," Rider agreed, looking weary, as if burdened by a great weight, as he regarded Saber and debated with himself if he should say more. He thought better of it, though. There was nothing more for him to say that the King of Knights would listen to. Not here and not now, at least. Standing, he gathered the cups and placed them with the golden jug in front of Archer.

"Thanks for the wine, Goldie. We should finish this off sometime before we try to kill each other next."

"I can arrange a last drink for you, Rider," Archer remarked haughtily but seemingly in good humor as he also rose and, with a flick of his fingers, returned his treasures to his treasury. "Until then, all of you, do your best to entertain me. I'm not expecting _much_ , but this diversion has raised my low expectations ever so slightly." Wearing the mocking grin Sayaka had learned to loathe, the red-eyed king disappeared in a stream of auric lights.

"You may go on ahead too, Rider," Lancer called out as he also got to his feet. "Berserker and I have a few matters to discuss, and I also promised her more pointers on swordsmanship. We can accomplish both on the walk back to Fuyuki through the forest. If you want to meet up again, we can do so tomorrow night at the usual spot."

Rider nodded as he summoned his spatha and swung the sword in a fast vertical arc through the air.

"That sounds great!" he roared cheerfully as a lightning bolt struck the ground near him and his chariot and oxen materialized out of the ensuing flash. Boarding and grabbing the reins to his vehicle, he drove over to his master and helped the younger man step into the chariot. The two exchanged a few private words which ended when the significantly larger Macedonian heartily slapped the short apprentice on the back, nearly sending Waver sprawling. He turned to wave goody-bye to Lancer and Sayaka and then, sparing Saber one last melancholic glance, Rider flew off into the night sky.

"...I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to seeing that," Sayaka joked weakly, now alone with Lancer and Saber and hoping to break some of the tension. "I mean, it's not _that_ different from Santa Claus riding in his sleigh pulled by magical reindeer, but still...that has to be strange, even by Holy Grail War standards."

"I wouldn't be so certain of that," Lancer answered with a pinched expression on his face, thinking of a certain Irish queen he would prefer _not_ to meet and pitying any warriors unfortunate enough to be summoned into a Holy Grail War with her. Then, collecting himself, he turned and bowed politely to the King of Knights. Saber watched him neutrally, her green eyes distant as she thought about what had been said tonight.

"Saber, I thank you for the use of your castle and for your patience. While there may be disagreements amongst us heroic spirits, remember that you are a hero recognized by the Holy Grail and the entire world as the King of Knights. Nothing anyone says can take that honor away from you. So, until next we meet, be well, Saber. It is my privilege to have a duel to finish with you."

"...What he said," Sayaka muttered, looking away and not sure what more she could say to get her point across but needing to try anyway. "For what it's worth...I think you deserve your title, and your heart is in the right place. But...it's just...it's terribly easy to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, so please...think about your wish carefully. I can't speak for your knights, but if someone did to me what you will do to them...I'd think of that person as the devil."

Saber sighed regretfully. "Despite how it may seem, I do understand that. Rider was wrong when he said my knights weren't my friends, and I know how they would feel about my wish. The thought of losing them a second time breaks my heart too. Still, duty—theirs _and_ mine—demand it, and I cannot turn back now. My people are counting on me. So, until we meet again, Lancer, Berserker, farewell."

With one last look at her, the Servants of the Spear and Madness disappeared. Saber was by herself again, and she lowered her head sadly. Much as she'd like to make a different wish, to go back in time and try again so as to save her kingdom without sacrificing her knights and her legend, she knew the end would ultimately be the same even if the circumstances of that end changed. The kingdom had fallen because of _her_ , and she could not change who she was. Abdication was the only choice, even if the pain of that choice hurt her even more than the anguish of killing her own son on the battlefield and seeing everything she'd worked for collapse.

"I'm sorry," the King of Knights apologized quietly as she turned her back on the beautiful but passionless garden of white roses and retreated inside the castle. She knew her knights would never hear her words, but she also knew that they deserved to and so much more besides.

* * *

Much later that night, Lancer stood atop the red metal beams of Fuyuki Bridge and swept his gaze across both halves of the city. He was alone, having parted ways with Sayaka in Miyama, and too high to be seen by the drivers and their passengers below. The banquet earlier had given him much to consider, and he wanted time to put his thoughts in order before he returned to the Hyatt Hotel where Sola-Ui waited for him. She was unlikely to be pleased by the delay, Lancer knew, but he understood all too well the potency of his curse and was hoping to spare her from temptation as much as reasonably possible. Both for her own sake, and for the sake of his wish.

 _It's strange to think, but it appears I do have something in common with Archer after all—neither of us have a wish for the Grail itself. Winning the war and presenting the Grail to Sola-Ui so she can resurrect her betrothed is a sufficient miracle for me, and Archer...well, I heard enough at the banquet to know where his interests lie._

He scowled at the memory. Archer's refusal to name himself when all others had offended his code of chivalry, and the golden servant's supreme arrogance further compounded the antipathy. He had strong disagreements with Rider and his values too, but at least he understood why the King of Conquerors believed what he did and could relate to it. Archer, on the other hand, had set himself above and apart from mankind as an inhuman king whose whims were everything, and that degree of megalomania was difficult to tolerate and impossible to respect.

 _Although Archer isn't the only one who has set himself apart from mankind..._

With that thought, the ruggedly handsome Irish knight frowned melancholically. The expression was a familiar one on his face, although it was usually worn because of his own sorrows rather than someone else's. For Saber, though, he couldn't help but feel sad. He supported her wish; her life and her legend were hers to decide what to do with, and she had a duty to her people just as he had a duty to his lord. The price of her wish was still incredibly steep, though, and almost pyrrhic. One's relationships were what made one human, and if Saber erased all of hers with her wish...he didn't know what she would become and feared what she _could_ become in the aftermath. The King of Knights deserved a happy ending, not some—

 _ **Fwoosh-fwoosh-fwoosh!**_

Lancer tensed at the quiet sound of air being displaced and instantly summoned his red and yellow spears to his hands. When he saw the three skull-masked figures who materialized—an elderly woman with gray-speckled purple hair on his right and two bald, bulky men on his left—he immediately understood that he'd only heard them because they'd _wanted_ him to hear them.

"Assassin," he noted calmly as he calculated precisely how far outside the reach of his spears each of the black servants was and how quickly he could close those gaps. "You're supposed to be dead."

The female Assassin grinned behind her mask. "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated...but weren't entirely off-base either. As you can see, I have lives to spare...and before you make a witty retort about how that's a good thing because I'm about to lose a few more, you might want to check in with your master first."

The Irish knight's orange eyes widened in alarm, and then he heard Sola-Ui's startled scream through their mental link as an unfriendly arm wrapped around her chest and a sinister dirk appeared in front of her throat.

"If she summons you to her side, she dies," the old woman stated in a deceptively sweet and friendly voice. "You may be fast but you're not that fast, Lancer, but don't worry. My counterparts are giving her the same instructions, and so long as you do _exactly_ what we tell you your master might get out of this alive. Do otherwise...and we make no promises. Now, here's what you'll be doing for us..."

* * *

Author's Notes: Happy Holidays! And many thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story despite the many and long delays and those who have continued to leave feedback too. Your encouragement has been tremendously helpful to me. Receiving a kind word on this story when I'm struggling to write a difficult scene, wrestling with writer's block, or am busy with other parts of my life keeps me coming back to work on this tale, and I deeply appreciate it.


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